


Dragged from Beneath

by Le0na



Category: Original Work
Genre: Art, Demons, Due to Biological Differences, Gen, Homesickness, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Language Barrier, Loneliness, Major Character Injury, Muzzles, Restraints, Supernatural Elements, Surgery, Teeth, Vampires, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:14:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 25,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21573571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Le0na/pseuds/Le0na
Summary: A demon who's had a hard time. A hunter with experience helping those who've been through trauma. The vampire who gave him that experience.A.K.A. what happens when a hunter picks up a demon, says "this is mine now," and has to deal with the fact the demon's crippled.(summary under construction)
Comments: 33
Kudos: 50





	1. Capture

**Author's Note:**

> Some of the characters in this work are not of my creation. This world, along with Callum and Ash are the creation of Whumping Every Day's (https://whumping-every-day.tumblr.com) vampire series.
> 
> The demon and worldbuilding related to The Under are of my own creation.

Large cities weren’t Callum’s forte. He much preferred his solitude in the hills, or small towns if need be. He made every effort to avoid streets clogged with unsavory things, cathedrals packed with parishioners as likely to stone a hunter as help them. And if he weren’t a professional he’d swear the city horses were possessed.

This particular hunt may even be true. A demon had been spotted. It was a wiry little thing, spry and lanky. No one had gotten a very good look at it. Reports only agreed on it’s pale gray scales, long tail, and spindly black legs.

The summoning circle had been discovered only when the smell grew to be a problem. The bodies were a day or two old and the cause of death was indeterminate. Then sightings started. Blurs at the corners of visions. Muggers and running to the police in fear when something stepped from the shadows. Some claimed to strike the creature, others fled at the first sign of something emerging from the shadows.

A good number of hunters roamed the streets that month. One couldn’t throw a stone without hitting a trap.

Curfews were set earlier as the month crept on and more hunters trickled into the city. No one had yet to fall victim to the creature.

Callum almost salivated at the thought of catching a demon. The ultimate prize for any hunter, but oh so rare. Rarely summoned, and usually too late to stop once unleashed. But this demon was weak. Too weak to kill apparently. The burning desire was only quenched by the knowledge the demon would more than likely be another’s prize.

It was a slippery thing. More than a dozen traps had been activated, only to release their prey before a hunter arrived to collect.

The solution turned out not to be a trap at all. Contrary to popular belief and prior knowledge, this demon could only be brought down with a bare physical attack. Patches of dark green, almost black liquid spattered countless alleys and rooftop corners. Callum tracked the thing relentlessly.

Callum only nabbed the thing through the graces of lady luck and that bastard surprise. The beast’s steps were shaky, hesitant. Its gaze flitted about, head twitching like a bird. But it never looked up. It made sense for demons not to look up when searching for danger. They’re the ones above more often than not. The one roaming the alley with slow, wary strides had yet to form the habit.

Something Callum realized in hindsight was it wouldn’t have had the time to. Its injury was too fresh. It was another reason the hunter took the demon down so “easily.” His initial leap onto the creature slammed right into the fresh wounds.

Callum knew the danger of what he was doing. Most other hunters were working in teams of two or more, and they were going for a trapping method. Callum had always worked alone.

The creature screeched and crashed to the stone street. Long limbs flailed, finding no purchase in thin air. Sharp claws scrabbled for purchase, yielding only surface scratches.

He straddled the demon’s back. One hand held its stick-thin wrists together, the other fished for a length of rope. Something jerked his shoulder. The tail wrapped his torso like a serpent. He struggled against it, scrabbling for his rope. The tail tugged frantically as he bound its wrists. It was weaker than the hunter would expect, even for a creature as obviously built for speed rather than power.

A hooked tip longer than Callum’s hand lashed before his eyes. He grabbed it not a moment before it took his eye out. He released the demon’s wrists and unwound the tail from his torso. Its legs kicked weakly beneath it. Despite the hind paw’s larger size, they didn’t fare any better under Callum’s weight and solid stance. He bound the barbed tip to the creature’s wrists.

Only the maw could be a problem. On top of the creature as he was, it couldn’t bite him. But once Callum moved… He hooked the demon under its chin with one hand and grabbed the midsection -elbows pinned to its sides- with another. The demon thrashed like a hooked fish. A sharp blow knocked the wind from his lungs. Callum gagged and staggered, tightening his grip.

The creature gave one last thrash and slumped, utterly spent. Harsh, deep breaths wracked its form.It knew it was beat. It was easy to get the creature out of town. Despite its size it couldn’t have weighed more than a small wolfhound. While quick, the walk back to his cart was long enough to attract the attention of more than one hunter.

Multiple scratches and two large wounds had opened during the scuffle. They leaked not red, but a bright toxic green. If the hunter was correct in his initial observations, the demon was in dire straits. Callum hoped he was wrong.

The creature’s crest extended far beyond the back of its skull, and its maw curled to a pointed crest on its chest. The muzzle Callum brought would’ve been useless even without that. It was fit for a humanoid face, the demon’s closer to that of an oversized newt. To keep those teeth shut he had to cover the head and neck in cloth.

Callum considered the wiry monster. It was more beastly, more animalistic than any other demon he’d encountered. Less human, less abstract horror of the abyss. Perhaps it was a quirk of the individual. Perhaps it was a different kind of demon altogether. Callum couldn’t wait to find out.

The beast’s chest rose and fell in shuddering gasps. It couldn’t be easy to breathe through the cloth. _He’d have to rectify it later,_ thought Callum. He’d contact the leather worker on his way back.

The horse shook its mane and it stamped a hoof in impatience. Callum gave one last look at the creature, eyes narrowing at the demon’s wounded flanks. With the beast secure in his cart, the hunter set off.


	2. Transit

The first thing he did when he stopped for the night was build a fire. The second was get measurements. It was far easier said than done. The creature’s mouth was flexible, less like a single jaw bone and more like a spine with teeth. Callum almost got his hand taken off at least one. The third thing he did was send a pigeon to the leatherworker.

He proceeded to set up camp for the night. 

Callum picked the demon up with little struggle and flipped it onto its other side. A day lying on an injured side wasn’t good. It was truly unfortunate both sides were injured. Callums hands came away sticky, and in the light of the fire he could make out the creature’s blood coating his fingers. His mouth set to a thin line.

It could’ve been the cart’s motion, it could’ve been the creature’s own slow clotting blood, it could be something else entirely. Callum didn’t know how much blood the demon had in the first place.

Crackling fire, chirping insects, and worry-fueled planning punctuated his first night of camp.

Before setting off in the morning Callum wrapped the demon in a large cloth. The pressure should help stem the blood flow. He’d bandage it later, once he had access to proper supplies. He had a field kit, sure, but that was made for humans. Improvisation could be disastrous if he was wrong about anything.

His second day and night were populated by reviewing every thought, second and third guessing every action.

The sun was setting on the third day when he finally arrived home.

Thrashing only began once he took a few steps. Callum set his stance low and waited for the creature to exhaust itself.

“I’m back!” He announced. There was a thud and a yelp and the hunter’s vampire house-mate came stumbling to the door.

“Welco-” Ash’s eyes shone bright and reflective in the dim light, joy fading to bewilderment to fear and understanding. He stood frozen for a moment, gaze locked on the demon before flicking to Callum. The hunter flicked his head and the vampire scrambled over himself to get out of the way.

“Yeah, I didn’t think I’d nab this thing either. You’re gonna need to get the doors on the way.”

Callum set the demon down in its cell. It was too late to treat its injuries that day. He unbound its limbs. Three straight days in one position probably wasn’t pleasant. At least now it could stretch. Tomorrow would be  _ unpleasant. _

* * *

Clang-k! Ash jumped and cowered against the far wall. The hooked tip of the demon’s tail poked between the bars separating their rooms.

Clank-k! The vampire sat, frozen, watching the tail clatter against the bars. The blade had hooked on one, leaving the tail stuck unless it could twist out. The demon’s tugs grew more rapid, more  _ frantic. _

Takatakataka… Ash winced. Slowy, ever so slowly, he reached up and nudged the tail back through the bars with a book.

It was supposed to be resting. Wasn’t that what sir- Callum said? They both needed their strength for the coming day? Perhaps it was nocturnal, the vampire mused.

His train of thought was cut off before it could really start when a Clunk! echoed from somewhere in the house. Ash listened for Callums footsteps but none came. The hunter had fallen asleep already. Understandable, he’d been riding for three solid days.

A stone sat in the middle of the room. It had been thrown through the window set aside for such projectiles. After a few broken windows Callum and the rest of the town had come to an agreement. They could throw rocks through his windows, but only the one. It hadn’t had glass in the frame for three years now.

Attached to the rock was a note and a bag. Ash couldn’t guess what warented the late delivery. He figured it was important though, and took a look at the note. It read: Never ask me for anything ever again.

Within the bag was a tangle of leather and metal. Ash left the package by Callum’s door.


	3. Inspection

Callum rubbed his thumb over the muzzle. The leatherworker had been good to his name. He’d delivered on the day Callum returned, if at a late hour.

The demon was jammed into a corner, eyes narrow. It’s legs were tucked tight against its body. Its crest stood tall in some feeble attempt to scare off the human. A low whistling growl echoed through the hall. The demon didn’t lay much hope in the intimidation tactic, but it was all they had. There was nowhere to run. No place to hide.

Sometime during the night the demon managed to tear off its makeshift hood.

The creature crouched on top of the cloth, hissing. It bared its teeth, each one easily a foot and a half in length, set in a curving maw easily twice as long. Whether it was guarding the fabric for its own purposes, or merely didn’t want to blinded again, Callum did not know.

Cut Out’s heart thudded against their chest. Their pectoral crest grew hot. If only… if only they could… no! Don’t think about it! They slammed into the human’s chest. A warm ache echoed from their tail where it slammed against the wall.

They launched off the prone human’s torso. They dashed for an exit, any exit. There! Something grabbed their spine. Cut Out twisted, spinning to bite the hand keeping their tail in place. The man let go. Cut Out didn’t taste flesh. It didn’t matter. The motion continued and they were out!

Bright! Too Bright!

They stumbled back, eyes clenched tight against the burning brightness. What  _ was _ that? Where could they go now? Could-!

They slammed against the floor. Something wrapped their torso right behind their first shoulders. 

Callum’s brow furrowed as he set about buckling the muzzle. That was too close. Had he grown careless, or… It had taken him by surprise, that’s what happened. He’d take more precautions next time. Close the lab door, for one.

He set the lower part of the muzzle in place. The restraint was two separate pieces, the lower more of a harness. One loop to keep the jaw shut around where it met the body, the other tucked behind the arms with connecting straps to keep the first secure.

The upper piece was a bit more complex, hooking all four horns to secure the muzzle cap to the face, and a strip with another loop extending back to keep the jaw shut in the middle.

The demon came out if its daze as Callum was looping its lower horns. It thrashed, limbs flailing. But as before, the hunter held it firm. Its tail lashed in panic, scoring the walls and floor. Callum grabbed it right behind the horns and forced it still. It garbled a hiss. Its eyes were wide, its pupils paper thin.

He tightened the last strap and let the creature’s head go.

Both hunter and demon were breathing hard. Callum swung a leg off the demon’s back. He’d catch his breath and let the demon recover a little. He flicked a switch, pulling shades over half the lights.*

Cut Out was frozen. What was happening? They were pinned, helpless just like before. But there was no pain. A jolt made its way from one of their many cuts. No  _ new _ pain.

They’d been immobilized. Rendered unable to bite. This time unable to even open their mouth. The man scooped them up. Cut Out struggled on pure reflex, caught in their own thoughts as they were. The man was moving them again. Was that all the man wanted? To render them immobile and move them around?

It was weird. But that was The Middle in Cut Out’s experience. Weird and Dangerous and Bright. 

Callum set the demon on his table and fastened straps over its back. As he tightened the second one it snapped its gaze to him. It made a noise somewhere between a cough and a chirp.

“Have you finally decided to calm down?”

The demon flinched. Callum didn’t have the oppurtunity to ponder the strange reaction because Ash skidded to a halt in the doorway.

“Good morning pointy.” He finished tightening the final strap, “Finally decided to join the party? Fun part’s over.”

The vampire flinched and swallowed, reminding himself the man was only teasing. There was nothing to worry about… from him at least. The demon on the table though… 

Ash took in a sharp breath and jerked like he’d been hit in the gut. Callum’s position had hidden the demon’s worst wounds before. They were on full display in the lab. A myriad of cuts and bruises, most unhealed even after three days.

But the worst… that worst…

Callum grimaced. “What kind of… who would… how…  _ Jesus Christ. _ ”

Two holes, one on either side of the spine. They were placed just behind the shoulder blades, each roughly thrice the size of Callum’s fist. A long, thin tear in the skin ran back from each, ending just above the hinquarters.

The hunter winced. There was only one thing that could have made a wound like that. He knew it, but he still hoped against hope he was wrong. If he was right, then…

Callum snapped on gloves. The demon flinched and twisted as far as it could from his fingers. He felt around the edges of the wound, and then inside. He could make out a few ribs and a hard, flat bone.

“I was right,” he said through gritted teeth.

Ash jumped. “What… what is it sir- uh, Callum?”

“I was fucking right,” The hunter set his hands on the table. “This thing had its wings ripped off.”

The demon  _ screamed. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *A relatively new installation. One put in to allow Ash to see without squinting in the bright lights. Vampire eyesight collects far more light than that of the average human. It’s a nocturnal adaptation.


	4. Surgery

Cut Out’s thrashes were cut off before they could ever begin. They were _stuck._ Their crippling had chased them along with everything else in their time roaming The Middle. Just another thing to run from the sight of, the thought of. Never focus on it. If they didn’t accept it, maybe it wouldn’t be true.

They turned a glare to the human. The outside confirmation. The final rock sealing the cave in.* They snarled. They _knew_ it wasn’t this human’s fault. They _knew_ they’d been maimed, crippled and deformed.

But it hadn’t truly hit them, deep in their core until then. Too focused on fear and survival. Too busy. But the human had removed those distractions. Yes, Cut Out was terrified. Yes, they worried for their survival. But the human had removed anything the demon could _do_ to change their situation. Removed their ability to adapt. To try new things.

Removed their ability to explore.

Wings were bad enough. They couldn’t fly. They couldn’t _express._

But the human took their legs, their voice, their teeth and claws. All for what? Did Yorlung hate them?

“Whoa!” Callum jerked back. The scream was muted, yes, but it was anything but quiet. A rumbling, catching tone that cut straight to the bone. Eerie and horrifying, and most unsettling, a _response to words._

Callum hadn’t done anything to warrant such a response. He’d _spoken,_ and the creature reacted _._ Not merely to look at the speaker, or at the tone of the words. He’d been using the same tone his previous sentences.

He grabbed the dorsal strap and forced the creature to face him head on, “Look, I don’t want to do this. And you obviously don’t want to be here.” The demon jerked against his grip, “No, listen.”

Cut Out stilled. What had they to lose by listening to the man? They were weak, bound, outmatched in every way. They had nothing to lose.

“I’m going to treat those holes in your side one way or the other. When we’re done you’re going back in your cell to recuperate. The easier you make it the more likely this,” he gave the muzzle strap a yank, “will come off. Do you understand?”

Cut Out gave a clicking whimper. The man released his grip. “Nod your head if you understand.”

They sat frozen for one second. Two. Three. Fou- Their nod was slow, cautious. Their eyes betrayed their suspicion. None of the other humans had so much as bothered trying communication. This was… new. Panic shot through them. Fear they had to consciously quell. Fear of their own reaction flooded them. Since when was ‘new’ bad? Their heart always sang with the new. Exploration called them. So why was the song so sad? So sharp and angry and bitter. So confused.

Distant scraping cut through their introspection. Not painful, but uncomfortable and detached. Somewhat like scratching their blade. Cut Out looked to where the man stood at their side. They would’ve collapsed had they not already been lying down. The man’s fingers were in their side. _IN_ their side.

The first step was cleaning. Dead tissue had to be removed. Ash held a mirror, reflecting more light in the wound while Callum got to work with his forceps. A scalpel was brought in to remove the more stubborn tissue.

The demon keened a moment, cutting into what almost sounded like a choke. Callum glanced to it’s face. The demon was staring at nothing, pupils pinpricks against wide black eyes.

“All I’m doing is taking the dead stuff, okay?”

The demon didn’t respond beyond a flick of its gaze and a blink.

Ragged edges had opened along the sides of the wound. They had to be cut away and smoothed out. Medical shears made short work of the scaly skin. With each incision it made a short, sharp noise. Ash set a hand on the demon’s back, “You’re doing fine.”

Each incision had to be cleaned as they went. A small infection had to be cut out. Antiseptic and clean water were key. Ash made multiple trips to the other room, putting on another pot to boil, and setting the old one to cool, and taking the cool one back.

With the wound clean there wasn’t much else they could do. If a part of the stump was left it would be a different story. But the wound was a hole, not a stump. All they could do wrap it and pray nothing got infected.

By the second hour’s end the demon was stiff and exhausted and empty. Bright green blood stained the hunter’s tools.

“I think we’re done here.” The human said. Cut Out slumped in their binds. Tension they forgot they held released, leaving only fatigue, pain, and hollowness resonating from their bones.

“We’re going back to your room. Don’t struggle.”

“If you do it’ll only hurt more.” Ash added. Callum shot the vampire an approving look.

The demon gave a shaky nod. That meant yes, right?

“Good.” Fresh air hit strips of their back for the first time in hours. Cut Out went limp when the hands reached for them this time. Their tail wrapped limply around the wrist of the not-human when they reached for their blade. The not-human froze.

Ash’s heart jumped. He looked to sir- Callum. All he could do was open his mouth. No words came. A questioning plea, somewhere between a whimper and moan escaped their open lips. A plea for direction.

The hunter looked to the demon. Exhaustion was evident in every limp limb, the sag of its spine. The thing was almost asleep in his arms. He gave the vampire a small smile.

“We’re okay.”

They set the demon on the floor of its cell. Ash retrieved a blanket and warming bag.** 

Callum waited for the vampire to return before he set unbuckling the straps of the muzzle. Exhaustion or no, he wasn’t about to be in the same room with it unrestrained again. 

Cut Out couldn’t muster the energy to care when the not-human pinned them. They merely unsheathed and licked their teeth when the _v’cacking_ device was removed. A yawn split their face and torso.

Ash watched with wide eyes at the dental display. He drew back unconsciously. Unknowingly he brought a hand to his own fangs.

Callum rolled his eyes affectionately. He supposed it made sense the vampire might want to compare hardware with the new guy. Not as a challenge, but maybe they’d compare notes. Actually, that brought up an important question.

The demon had already closed its eyes. It’s chest rose and fell softly. Long limbs tucked against itself, tail and torso curled against the warming back. It was an important question, but not one for tonight.


	5. Consequences

“What’s the plan?”

“We heal it. We open a dialogue if possible. We make sure it doesn’t kill us.”

“How big of a danger is that last one?”

Callum remembered the demon’s lashing. Its attempted flight. He rubbed a hand on the spot it headbutted him the previous day. It could’ve snapped him in two with that lunge, but no.

“I’m not sure.” Hunters told tales of the demons they’d vanquished. Creatures of untold evil and unimaginable might. Neither description fitted the frail, flighty creature in cell two. Callum pursed his lips.

Hunters had been wrong before. Perhaps now was a time. Perhaps the creature was an exception. Perhaps it was merely biding its time.

He would observe, he would test. He wasn’t about to trust the creature, but he would pass his own judgements. Before any accurate research could occur, the demon needed to gain strength. As it stood, a strong wind would send it to the floor.

It wasn’t going to happen overnight. In the meantime, he’d take some base readings. Comparison with its later state wouldn’t hurt. And communication… communication would be-

A scramble and Thwap! sounded from the other room, followed by snarling.

… key. Communication would be key.

Cut Out snapped at the white thing pinning their wings. The demon couldn’t feel them, they were so tight! Cut Out couldn’t see them, but they had to be there!

Bright! They couldn’t see! The side of their head blossomed in pain. Their eyes darted about in a blind daze. The frenzy had yet to die despite the ringing in their skull. Which way was up? Which way was down? Human hands held their head firm against the stone floor. 

They  _ screamed. _ Rage, pain, frustration, despair. All wrapped in one cry. Nowhere close to encompassing the full depth of their emotion, but a clawful of the surface. They thrashed. Against what, they didn’t know. They only knew they had to change. To not be what they were.

Their wrists hit the floor, energy spent. Exhaustion crept up their spine. They shut their eyes against the light.

“Now look at what you’ve done.” The wrap was in shreds, rendered (and rended) unusable. The wound beneath didn’t look too bad upon first glance, but it would need to be examined in better light.

“Why did you go and do that?” The human asked. Cut Out groaned. To bring their wings back, what else? But that wouldn’t work. They knew that. Would… would anything work? Shame ran hot through their neck, mixing with deep fear. Deep, endless fear of a certainty.

They were grounded. Mutilated, maimed, disfigured and stranded beyond anyone who could understand them. Would their old friends be able to recognise them if Cut Out somehow managed to return? Would they want to be recognized?

“Don’t do it again, understand?” The demon opened a slit of an eye to the hunter. “The bandages are there to  _ help.” _

The demon let out a short ‘Erm-ph!’ and a dip of its head. Callum gave it a considering look.

“Can you speak?” He asked the big question. The answer determining how all further interactions played out.

*“Yes…”* Cut Out hissed, trailing the word. Their vocal chords had been one of the only things  _ not _ injured since arriving on The Middle. Turmoil pulled their mind and body down, down, down. Sinking into something they didn’t bother trying to climb out of.

Callum pursed his lips. “Ash,” he said, not taking his eyes off the demon, “did you get any of that?”

“N-No. No. No- … No.”

“Alright, alright. I heard you the third time.” He heaved another sigh, removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose, “Of course it couldn’t be that easy.” He muttered.

“May I try?” Ash said. Callum nodded and the vampire continued, “Can you speak english? Or any human language for that matter?”

The demon tilted its head, visible eye narrowed to a slit and dull. It chuffed, then made a noise somewhere between a growl and cough. The slit eye shut. Then a low rumble. It fell silent and slowly drew a claw to its neck, behind its horns and before its shoulders. A single tired pupil to him, questioning.

“If that’s a ‘no’ then shake your head.” Said Ash. Callum shifted their grip a little lower. The demon shook. Then it’s body racked in a shudder.

Ash had become a bit of an expert at recognizing his human’s facial expressions. He knew the hunter’s set jaw wasn’t about to let setbacks, no matter the size, stop them. “We’re going to the lab. You’re not going to struggle, understand?”

Cut Out’s head dipped, the conformation unfinished but present. The realization of what they’d done hit them. The demon grit their teeth in shame. Their wings… the things on their sides weren’t the problem. In their grogginess they must have forgotten… or something. It felt so  _ real. _

How could their own body lie to them?

Both demon and hunter frowned, albeit for different reasons.

The demon was promptly restrained in the lab once more. Callum unwrapped its torso. The demon had gotten a bite in. Its side was a mess once more. 

Callum huffed. Ash went to get the water boiling. The hunter retrieved his tools. It took easily another hour to treat the bite. First washing. Then more skin had to be cut away. The edges were too ragged to be saved. The demon barely flinched. Then more water. The antiseptic was applied and reapplied to old wounds. Finally the wounds had to be wrapped.

Procedure done, he slumped to a seat. Ash looked between the exhausted entities. “I  _ had _ some questions.” The hunter grumbled. The demon twitched. “It seems like most aren’t going to be easy to answer though. We’re gonna start with a few easy ones today.” The hunter sank into his seat.

“Ash, you ready?” He said, not looking up.

“Y-yes.” The vampire shifted his grip on the pen.

“Now,” Callum shifted, bringing his head up to stare at the creature on his table, “are you a demon?”

Cut Out nodded.

“Do you want to inflict pain?”

Cut Out cocked their head. What kind of question was  _ that? _ They shook their head vigorously.

Callum stood up with a groan. “We’re done for now.” He grabbed the demon’s muzzle, forcing it to look at him once more.

“I don’t know if I trust you, but until you can prove you’re not going to try to bite everything that moves, this,” he jerked the muzzle strap, “isn’t coming off.”

The creature was set back in its cell. It curled its tail over its claws.

Cut Out looked to the human. How were they supposed to prove their self-mutilation was an accident? They didn’t  _ want _ to hurt. To inflict it or feel it. They kept being shoved into situations they couldn’t help. Things they couldn’t control.

Their question must’ve shown. The human’s expression softened a touch.

“Keep your claws to yourself over the next few days and you’ll earn a little trust.” He nodded to Ash. “I’m going to wash off.”

The vampire watched his human leave. He considered the demon. It lifted a claw, seemingly considering something.

“It’s really not bad here. It’s actually nice. Really nice. You- you just need to show us we can trust you.” Ash didn’t know if the reassurance meant anything. He hesitated a moment, but he had tasks to do. The vampire shot the creature in the cell another look before he left.


	6. Render

Cut Out fell asleep with only their own thoughts as company. A shudder racked their form as a wake up call. A moment of panic set in when they couldn’t open their jaw. Only a moment. Another shudder wracked them.

An ache set in their bones. It had nothing to do with their cramped sleep. Nothing to do with fresh scars. Nothing to do with the holes in their sides.

Everything to do with the holes in their sides.

Connection. They missed it so. A kind touch. A gentle brush. Their own tail wasn’t enough. They set one claw over their own wrist. It was the closest they’d get to an affectionate gesture here. They lay their head on their wrists and stared at nothing.

Their mind swirled with unintelligible thoughts. Their lonely ache and creeping dread covered their mind. Making out anything tangible was akin to making out a tune at a waterfall. They knew thoughts were _there,_ sometimes they could bake out snippets of an idea, but the whole thing was disjointed and frustrating.

The human’s presence tugged them from their thoughts.

Judging by the lack of scratches, the demon had left its muzzle alone overnight. A good first step. They knocked on the vampire’s door.

“You coming?”

“I- I think I’m not going to be able to help much.” Callum raised an eyebrow. Ash sputtered, biting his tongue to get his voice back under control before continuing, “It’s not that I don’t- don’t want to sir. It’s just…” He choked on his words.

The hunter raised a hand. He didn’t need to continue. Callum could guess the issue. Some things hit a little too close to home. He didn’t blame the kid for wanting to avoid _those_ memories.

“If you need to remove yourself, that’s fine. Today’s going to be fairly basic anyways. I’m taking some measurements.” If he couldn’t assist today’s activities, then he probably wasn’t going to be able to help any of the things Callum had planned for the future.

Ash bit his lip, eyes flicking to the cell next to his. “I… I think I can try to help.”

“Excellent.”

The demon plodded into the hall. Their paws almost dragged along the floor. Their tail scraped the masonry.

“Please stretch out. Ash, the tape measure.”

Each measurement was quick, but there were a _lot._ Length, width, depth, circumference, etc. etc. ect…

“Your tail is longer than the rest of your body. Did you know that?” Callum said. The demon was cooperating. He was in a good mood, the closest he’d been to chipper since he’d gotten home.

Something shone dull in the demon’s eyes. Humor? Amusement? Cut Out wasn’t sure either. It wasn’t bad though. A nice change of pace. It almost reminded them of the obvious statements Heavy Step used to make. They spent many a length* with the decapiedal demon and Hound’s Tooth, chasing each other about Home Spires.

A light came to their eye at the recollection of their trek up Jason’s Fang. They’d scaled the entire spire without using their wings, only to jump off and glide to the bottom. They remembered the cold times, when they’d curl up upon themselves, wings and tails and legs all tangled on each other.

They remembered the time Hound’s Tooth almost lost an eye. The time Heavy Step did.

The demon choked on a sob. Would they ever see them again? Or were their friends permanently beyond reach? 

They didn’t remember their wrappings being changed. They didn’t remember being guided back to their room. They barely remembered the cry that rent their throat before unconsciousness claimed them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The Under is, as the name implies, entirely subterranean. As such, demons don’t have day-night cycles. Time is measured in lengths, i.e. the time it takes to travel a certain distance. It’s like light-years in that sense.


	7. Hooked

Cut from anyone who could understand them. Out of their depth, out of their home. Wings Cut Out from their sides. Their moniker never felt more fitting.

It was terrible. Was that what their name meant? What their existence lead to?

Cut Out couldn’t live with that. They couldn’t. They wouldn’t.

They couldn’t communicate? They’d figure something out. Their soul ached for companionship, friends beyond reach? They’d reach farther. They’d get home.

But… they couldn’t get home, could they? They’d Vanished. Vanished demons never returned. They… they’d never see their old companions again, would they?

They were on The Middle, not a friendly face in sight. The  _ only _ other face belonged to someone they’d actively resisted. Someone with unclear goals who they were honestly terrified of.

They’re so freaking _ lonely. _ Every scratch of their claws on the stone echoed in their mind.

A hitching sob broke the night. Ash looked up from his book. He sat there, unmoving. Unsure what to do. Did he investigate? Should he wake Callum?

Ash wasn’t sure how long he sat. The demon’s chirping cries echoed through the night. Ash gathered his courage. He didn’t have much. Just a tattered scrap at the back of his mind. It was a recent construct, crafted from time and borrowed confidence. He peeked through the bars between their rooms.

The demon lay on the ground, curled over itself. Every so often a shuddering chirping whine racked its body. Its eyes shut tight, the demon didn’t notice him.

Ash ducked back. In the morning. He’d ask Callum in the morning.

* * *

“It seemed… upset.”

“How so?” Despite Callum’s refusal to look up from his work Ash knew he had the man’s ear.

“It made this  _ noise.” _

“Oh?”

Ash nodded, “Yes.” How best to describe it? Did he even know the proper words? “It was mostly low, but it jumped at points. It sounded a bit like crying, a bit like whimpering, with a touch of something else. It was… lonely.”

“Lonely you say.” Callum finally found what he was looking for. A small wooden box with no lid.

“Yes. What should I do?” 

“First, fill this with water.” Callum handed him the box. Ash returned to find the room empty. “Over here.” Came a yell.

Following the voice, he found Callum in the hall in front of the cells, a bag of  _ something _ against the wall and the demon lying at his feet. Callum crouched down, “Put it here.”

The hunter took one of the creature’s claws, bending it. He looked to the other paw. It didn’t move. He dumped some of the bag’s powdery content into the water and stirred.

“I’ve learned many things over my time on this earth. Trust your gut.” He said, stirring the powder in, “Do what  _ you _ think is right.”

He took the creature’s paw, sinking it into the mixture until it was fully submerged. “Keep those claws flat and still.”

They sat there a few minutes in silence. Ash hovered behind Callum. He shifted from foot to foot, approaching a little before shying away. Callum huffed. “Take a seat kid. I’m not gonna bite.”

Ash sat, watching quietly as the seconds ticked away. 

Slowly, hesitantly, he extended a hand. Both the demon and hunter watched him. Ash set his hand on its unsubmerged wrist. The demon looked to him, then set its head on his hand. Ash froze. He looked to Callum. The hunter merely observed.

Eventually the mold was set, and the demon’s claws removed from the mold. Callum sent the vampire for another bucket of water, while he brought the demon to the lab. He washed the remains of the mold off its claws.

The hunter flexed them, curling and uncurling. Small spines -the same beetle black of the fingers themselves- unsheathed with every curl. They were small, rear-facing things.

Callum set the claw down. He’d look into it more later. Now, the bandages needed to be changed.

The change of wrappings had become somewhat routine after only a few days. This time though, something new was discovered. A wound on the back, right behind the second shoulders and to the left of the spine stood out. Hidden under the bandages, it had been missed and had become infected. They cleaned that as well.

“If that’s gotten worse by tomorrow, we’re going to need to take a look at it.”

The demon was put back in its cell.

Cut Out immediately tucked their claws under their body. A gentle touch was one to savor. Memories flooded them again. They grit their teeth against the bittersweet wave. Times they used to comfort others. The ledges they’d find Hooked Point curled on themselves. They’d tap the other demon with a wing hook, gently asking for permission to enter their area.

They’d look over to Cut Out and open their defense a crack. Cut Out would launch into their area, comforting them.

Hooked Point never spoke of what upset them. Cut Out quickly stopped asking. They’d just huddle in the dark, watching the dim glow of The Pits in the distance. A spark came to their eye at the memory.

It only last a few moments. The empty, ripping hole in their sternum tore itself open again when they looked back, to the holes where their wings should be.

They’d never have that again. A keen ripped from their throat.

Ash paced by the demon’s door. If he entered, he could be responsible for releasing the demon. Or he could be hurt. Another cry echoed from its cell. Ash bit his tongue in a nervous habit.

Callum said to trust your gut. To do what you thought was right. But what he thought was right… it felt like betrayal. Tomorrow. He’d ask Callum tomorrow. All he could do tonight was listen to the whimpers. 


	8. Barbs

“It’s lonely.” Ash blurted out. He covered his mouth, mortified.

Callum raised an eyebrow.  _ That  _ was a different way to say “good morning.” As far as the fist thing to hear after waking, it wasn’t the  _ worst. _ He glanced to the demon. One eye was barely open, its tail curled tight over its claws. “I can  _ see _ that. What do you suggest we do about it?”

“… I don’t know.”

“Let me know when you figure it out.”

In the meantime, they needed to address the demon’s infected wound. It had only gotten worse overnight.

Cut Out dragged themselves to their feet when the human entered their room. They shuddered, closing their eyes a moment. Their hindquarters hit the floor. It was still a little warm where they slept.

They paused, hindquarters shifting. Perhaps they could go back to sleep? Cut Out didn’t know what happened to their mind when they were unconscious, but it couldn’t be worse than the aching void clawing in their pectoral crest.

“Come on Lanky.”

They tiredly half-mused on the human’s choice of words. Who?... They blinked blearily at the human. Was it talking to them? It was looking at them. Cut Out pulled themselves off their haunches.

“There we go. Come on.” The human gestured to the room’s exit.

Apparently it  _ was _ talking to Cut Out. They supposed “lanky” wasn’t the worst name.

They plodded to the only other room the demon had been in since it arrived. How many lengths ago had that been? It couldn’t be  _ too _ long. Their wounds were still fresh.

The demon climbed onto the table, laying down and closing its eyes. Perhaps they could get some more sleep. 

Once the cleaning was out of the way they needed to inspect the wound itself. Something was lodged in its back. The hunter dug deeper. He wasn’t about to remove the offending object before identifying it.

Cut Out whimpered. Pain shot, tearing and ripping through their side. They grit their teeth. Their claws pressed flat against the table. What was happening?

The demon had taken an arrow to the back, just to the left of the spine. One of the creature’s ribs managed to stop it from hitting anything important. That was the only good news.

The arrow had rear-facing barbs. The shaft had long since broken off, but that wouldn’t have helped regardless. Incisions needed to be made on either side of the head before removal.

“You’re going to need to hold still. This wont to be pleasant. I’ll try to make it quick.”

Cut Out wound their tail around a table leg. The straps across their back tightened.

Ash set their hand on the demon’s bound wrists. An old echo of pain raked their shoulder. A small, tentative smile crept onto their face and they gave the demon a soft nod. The demon blinked at the hand, unsure if it was real, turning to the vampire. Something between disbelief and gratitude shone in its eyes.

Ash patted the limb once before pulling away, hands shaking. He got into position across from Callum. He set a hand on either side of the wound, holding flesh still and waiting for the thrashing.*

Teeth gnashed against their owners will. A low rumbling hiss emanated from their sternum. They tensed with each slice. Claws scrambled, limbs pushed against restraints. It didn’t help.

Cold air flooded their wound. The thing was out. They struggled a few more seconds before fatigue caught up with them. Their arms shook a second before they collapsed in their binds. They barely twitched at the pinpricks of pain and surreal tugging around the sides of their wound. A faint question of what they were doing floated through Cut Out’s head. Nothing more, nothing less.

The stitching itself was fairly quick. The fresh incisions were the easiest to close, as they were clean cuts. The arrow wound itself couldn’t be closed. It was too small. Callum applied another set of wrappings over the area when changing the main wraps.

Normally he’d set the demon back in its cell to recover, but there was something he wanted to investigate. He wanted follow up on the previous day’s discovery, the hidden spikes on the demon’s claws.

The sheer number of spines per digit was due to an obscene amount of joints. Where the human finger had three per finger, the demon had seventeen. The spikes unsheathed when the plate above a specific joint tilted forward, exposing the joint. The spikes themselves almost seemed spring-loaded, jumping back automatically when pressed.

The demon watched him. Its tail swept the floor in lazy wags.

Ash froze when it brushed his ankle. He stiffened when it wrapped his leg. The vampire stood stone still, staring at Callum in hope the hunter would notice his distress. Instead the demon turned to him.

It cocked its head and loosened its grip. Ash stumbled back, finally catching the human’s attention. If he still breathed he knew he’d be hyperventilating.

Callum could  _ see  _ the gears turning in that vampire’s head.

“It needs touch.”


	9. Stimulus

They stared at the old-new injury. It no longer scraped against their ribs when they lay wrong. The object had rear-facing barbs like their own claws. Unlike their claws though, those barbs were built to rip into and hold flesh. It was really no wonder they hadn’t been able to remove it with the rest of the projectile. The man had to cut it out of their body.

The blunt hurt of hunger distracted them. How long had it been since they’d eaten?

Hunger would sap their strength. They knew this. They settled to sleep once more.

* * *

“I’ve wanted to test the demon’s response to foreign stimulus for a while now.”

Ash nodded. He remembered his own tests. Not very well, but he remembered them. He’d been presented with different things. He didn’t remember  _ what _ exactly. It had been years ago. He’d be willing to bet it was at least similar to the list of items he’d been given to retrieve.

Ash didn’t leave the house often. Even less when Callum didn’t accompany him. Almost always not further than the yard. That night was no different.

He’d been sent for a mouse and a rabbit. A human had no chance of catching either animal alive. Vampires were quicker and stronger than humans. Ash’s hunting prowess wasn’t anything special, being both unpracticed and as likely as his prey to startle at an unexpected noise.

There was always a chance neither animal was around that night. It was a low chance. Ash wouldn’t deny something in his blood  _ sang _ at the hunt, short as it was. His steps were preternaturally quiet. He knew that. It wasn’t fair. Ash didn’t mind in the slightest.

He shut the mouse in a small box before it even had the chance to squeak.

The rabbit was slightly harder to catch.

* * *

It only took one dumb hunter to taint the profession. He had to use a go-between. Callum didn’t know how many other hunters used a go-between, or if he was the only one. They were more expensive than buying straight from the source, but sometimes the latter wasn’t available.

When one needed to buy an extra pidgeon, for example.

With the bird out of the way, Ash hunting for the other prey animals, and wooden ball located, all he needed to get was the cat. It was just a matter of waiting on that one.

Few people would sell a cat to a hunter. There was a certain  _ reputation  _ they carried, however unwarranted. It only took one dumb hunter using a cat as bait, and the whole profession was tainted.

People in his town were defensive of their animals, more so than the average town. The exception was black cats. Callum didn’t know how people first got it in their heads that black cats were related to witches. He’d like to introduce whoever started the notion to a real witch, and let them sort the person out.

Black cats were no more likely to be witch-adjacent than any other feline. Their stigma led many a black kitten abandoned on Callum’s doorstep. He had no use for cats, so would pawn them off to the next merchant he could find. The next merchant with a lick of sense, that is.

Some would even kill the cat and lay it on their doorstep in some strange ritual. They thought it would keep a vampire from crossing their doorstep. Callum set those folks straight real quick. Dead cats littering the streets were just unpleasant. And roughly as likely to repel a vampire as a human.

He’d gotten more kittens abandoned at his doorstep after that. It had died down in the past year, but now he was in need of another cat.

For now he’d introduce the specimens to the unconscious creature, then wake it and try again.

“Come on. It’s time to wake up. Or… are you nocturnal?” It didn’t match with the creature’s sleep schedule, but one could never be sure. The demon cocked its head. “It means awake at night, asleep in the day.”

It was a less than helpful explanation for the demon. What was “night” and “day?”

“The day is when the sun is out, when its light outside. The night is the opposite.”

Huh. The Middle was weird. The Under was perpetual darkness, with areas of light where the pits bubbled or mushrooms grew or ravines cut the land. Some demons even glowed. Bright Side in particular was known for their luminescent spots. It frustrated one of their heads to no end how distracted the other would get with their spots.

Cut Out smiled at the memory of Hound’s Tooth distracting the glowing demon by ramming into their sides. Bright Side lay there for a few moments, stunned. Both heads came to an agreement that time. Their chase lasted longer than anyone expected, ‘Tooth yapping with joy the whole way.

Movement drew the demon from their reminiscing before it could turn sad. A small round object rolled past their claws. It bumped into the wall. Was that… a ball?

Cut Out looked to the human. Were they really offering to play? Sure, the ball was a little weird. Lighter than the ones they were used to for one, and a different texture. But it was a ball. Cut Out batted it from one claw to the other.

They looked to the human. It didn’t respond. They batted it once more. No response. Cut Out swatted the ball towards the human.

The human looked to the ball, then to the demon. Callum scrawled a few more notes, then tossed it back to the demon. The exchange continued a few more times, the demon seeming to perk up more and more as the exchange went on. At one point it ran into the wall in its eagerness for the ball. Callum took that as his que to finish that part of the experiment.

“Alright. You seem to like this.” Callum said, “I’ll keep it in mind for later. Now though, we’re going to do something else. Here.” He placed the box with the mouse in the demon’s cell. 

It sat there a few seconds, almost deflating. It completely froze when he entered its cell, watching him with wide eyes. It kept watching another few seconds after he left before it padded to the box.

It sniffed the wooden object, batting it once before turning to him.

“You slide the top off to open it.”

Cut Out opened it. A strange, furry creature dashed around in the small box.

What were they supposed to do with  _ that? _ They looked to the human in confusion once more.

They’d heard of tributes. Offerings that essentially amounted to live food. But Cut Out couldn’t eat with their mouth in the human’s contraption. Even if they wanted to. The human, however, didn’t offer any aid or instruction or even chastisement.

They tapped the little thing with a claw. It squealed and shivered.

Callum removed the box after a few minutes of the demon staring at the mouse. It was evident the demon wasn’t going to do anything, so on to the next section they went.

Callum removed the box after a few minutes of the demon staring at the mouse. It was evident the demon wasn’t going to do anything, so on to the next section they went. Introducing the rabbit yielded similar results.

The dove, however, was a different story altogether. The demon’s pupils narrowed to pinpricks. It stared wide eyed at the flying animal.

The devastation of remembering they had been spared earlier hit Cut Out like a blow to the head.

The demon collapsed, curling over itself. Long limbs twisted over each other, almost looking to break at points to clutch at bandaged sides. Its eyes shut tight and it  _ shook. _

They weren’t aware of the human entering their room. They didn’t see when it removed the flying thing. They didn’t remember the wraps on their sides being changed.

Callum set the catatonic demon back in its room.

The dove was a bust, no doubt. He set the dove free outside. It would fly home on its own.

He wondered what happened to the demon to set it shuddering like that. It might be a species thing, but Callum’s gut said otherwise. The hunter took a deep breath of the afternoon air. It was times like this when he really appreciated the vampire’s input. His perspective was invaluable.

But the vampire was fast asleep. His nocturnal nature coupled with the night’s hunt set the kid to deep sleep. He’d ask Ash later.

The small bundle on his front steps mewed. Callum looked down and grinned.


	10. Names

Cut Out woke to hunger and a small furry creature pressed against their nose. Or, it _would_ be pressed against their nose, were the muzzle not in the way.

Their eyes flew open, pupils narrowed to crosseyed slits. Their back hit the wall. Their stomach groaned in protest at the sudden motion.

“Sorry. I couldn’t wake you any other way. You had quite the big day yesterday, no?”

Cut Out tried to yawn against their binds. The human wasn’t wrong.

The furry creature wobbled toward them on little legs. They were too short for its body. Bits of fluff stuck out every which way. Grooming urges rose in the demon, ones they had no reason to resist.

They ran their claws through its fine fuzz, gently detangling knots and smoothing ruffled fur. 

The little thing poked its nose into Cut Out’s hand. A tiny paw batted at their claw. It mew-ed again. Cut Out brought the creature up to their crest.

Its fragile little bones dug faintly into their side. The creature needed to eat. Another dull, panging ache rose from their stomach. They’d need something soon too. At least this creature didn’t have its mouth fastened shut. It should make things easier. If it ate with a mouth, that is. Cut Out was never sure with creatures of The Middle.

And worse yet, they couldn’t ask the human or not-human for food. They only had one thing to feed it. They curled the back of their hook around an arm and braced themselves.

Bright green blood trickled down their leg. They held the fuzzy thing up to cut. It sniffed. It only got in a single lick before the human picked it up.

That was… unexpected. The demon looked at him, something asking in its eyes. It brought its bleeding arm to its jaws. The kitten curled in his hands, light and frail. Oh.

He gave the cat to Ash. He trusted the vampire to nurse it back to health. In the meantime, the demon obviously needed company. And he had only one other option.

Cats were one of the few animals who tolerated the vampire. Based on that, and the kitten’s lack of reaction to the demon, Callum considered it fair to dismiss rumors from the East regarding their warding off evil spirits.

Or perhaps not. Neither demon nor vampire had shown a malicious bone in their bodies. The closest either had come amounted to panicked thrashing. Callum wasn’t about to condemn a being for _that._

He knocked on the vampire’s door.

“I’m awake!” He threw the door open. He looked about wildly, focusing on Callum’s face. The hunter flicked his gaze to the kitten. Ash’s followed. His eyes widened. He held out a hand for a second, drawing it back to his chest and looking for permission.

Callum nodded. Ash took the kitten, cradling it close to his chest.

They headed for the kitchen. Ash set about preparing the kittens meal. A tense quiet settled over the room.

“What did it do?” Ash finally asked. The vampire didn’t life his eyes to meet Callums. His shoulders held a hunched, tense line.

“I may be wrong… but I suspect it tried to feed the cat.”

Ash didn’t respond verbally. His shoulders dropped. His wide amber eyes met the hunters concerned blue.

“It cut itself with its tail and held the cat up to the cut. Either demon blood does something when ingested, it saw the kitten was skinny, or both.” Callum leaned back in his chair, observing the kitten napping on the counter, “Now, I’m going to trust you to watch over the kitten at night.”

Ash nodded. He could feel the other shoe about to drop.

“We have another problem on our hands. The demon. This thing obviously needs some kind of contact. It was grooming the kitten before it started bleeding.”

“Grooming?”

“Yeah, grooming. Pretty obviously too. Now, I don’t know what kind of society this thing comes from, if any, but it’s pretty obvious what needs to happen.”

The answer lay unsaid in the air, but Ash had to be sure, “It… it needs to be a person.”

“Right on the first try Pointy. The real question is who?”

It lay in the air, a fire waiting to burn whoever touched it.

“I’ll do it. Unless you have any objections?” He looked to the vampire almost expectantly.

It had taken Ash quite the time to figure out the human actually meant the question when he asked. That it wasn’t a mocking jab.

“...” He didn’t turn his eyes from the kitten. The little thing didn’t look up from its meal. Callum couldn’t have seen _how_ thin it was with all the fluff in the way.

“M- m- maybe I should… should do it.” He regretted the words before they left his tongue. He couldn’t look Callum in the eye.

“Kid.”

He kept his gaze firmly affixed on the kitten.

“Kid. Look at me.”

Tears welling in the corners of his eyes, he looked.

Callum’s face was soft but edged with seriousness. “Will you be able to handle it?”

Ash looked to the kitten once more. “Was… was it really trying to feed it?”

“... Yes.”

Ash nodded. “I should.”

* * *

This was such a bad idea. He’d been trying to convince himself he could do this just as much -if not more- than 

Before anything, he needed to pass on Callum’s words.

“H-Hey. Um. You need to keep your tail out of body- body- bodies. Flesh. Don’t cut people okay? Do you understand?”

Why was he doing this? Ash clutched his book against his chest. The kitten kneaded his shirt from its spot on his shoulder.

He looked to the demon. It lay on cold stone, curled over itself. It slit one eye open, watching him. Why was he doing this?

Because… because he saw himself.

He saw someone with an undeserved bad reputation. He saw someone who’d been through pain. Someone who didn’t want to hurt.

Ash set his back against the wall, sliding down to sit on the floor.

The demon shuddered. It raised its head, watching him. Ash watched back. Ash glanced to the door, and the demon was right next to him as soon as his gaze flicked back.

A cold hand curled around the vampire’s heart. His arm jerked back without his mind’s input.

It tapped a claw at the ground at his side. The question was obvious in its eyes. Ash didn’t respond. He couldn’t. The grip on his heart was loosening since the initial startle, but had yet to release. The demon took his lack of action as an invitation.

The demon was cool and smooth against his side. Its scales were smooth like coins, round like the rocks of a riverbed.

Finally. Finally they could sleep. Could rest for real. For the first time since… since…

Demons were, above all, sharing creatures. Food, sleep, contact, it all had to be shared for any of it to be _right._ The little furry creature simply didn’t have enough mass to share. The not-human though… what was their name?

They wracked their memory for the name. It had been called a few things hadn’t it? But one thing had been more prominent. Yet, try as they might, they couldn’t find it. Like it had fallen out of their mind.

They let the not-human’s name fall. Cut Out snuggled further into its side. Touch… touch always helped. The not-human couldn’t truly connect without wings, but neither could they, now could they? The demon couldn’t bring itself to care.

A long, easy sigh escaped their lips. The last breath of Cut Out. They shed their name. Their history. Their wings. They finally understood what could not be.

From that understanding they could rise. They could forge a new life. They could never forget, but they could accept.

They were less than before. They would struggle. They would face hardships. But there was nowhere to go but up.


	11. Need

Ash didn’t sleep most nights. It was natural for vampires. That night he suspected he wouldn’t have slept even if he were human. The sheer terror eventually faded to strong wariness.

His breath caught when the kitten batted at its tail barb. Callum told him the wound it inflicted was clean, the blade incredibly sharp. It didn’t respond.

The demon’s tail curled tight around his ankle.

A low rumble made Ash jolt. It stopped. The demon woke, looking at him. It blinked.

Another rumble sounded. It was different, stronger and less stable. Ash gulped, freezing. Not a growl, but something else. The demon tilted its head, looking back on itself. It curled against him and fell back to sleep with ease. The first rumble started up again.

Ash wasn’t sure how much time passed. The kitten tumbled its way over his legs and up his shoulder

The kitten purred next to his ear and he put two and two together. It was doing the same thing, wasn’t it? At least at first. The second rumble though… as though on que it happened again. With the demon curled against him, Ash  _ felt  _ it.

Oh.

It was hungry.

When was the last time it ate? For that matter, what  _ did _ it eat? Those teeth weren’t made for any plants he knew of…

* * *

Callum rubbed a hand over his head. He’d just had to reassure a man that the bad dreams he’d been having were not the fault of any of anything in his house, nor was his belt possessed. What a way to start the morning. And he still had to check in on the toothy duo. Trio, if you included the kitten.

He found Ash with the demon curled against him, crest against his hip. The vampire looked for all the world like a lost puppy.

“What’s the verdict?”

“Verdict?” Ash asked, almost breathless. His voice was thin, strained. Not quite fearful, nowhere near calm.

“What do you think?” Callum elaborated. He rubbed his throat. The shouting match with the cobbler hadn’t been easy on it.

Ash looked to the demon for a long second, then back to the hunter. “It likes contact.”

Callum nodded, jotting it down. All information was important, no matter how obvious. He made a ‘go on’ motion with his hand.

“I heard its stomach. It’s hungry. Can I please come out now?”

Callum nodded. The vampire rose on shaky legs. Black eyes snapped open. The demon didn’t move except for its eyes. Pearlescent pupils fixed on the vampire.

Ash froze. The toothy being stared at each other. A soft question hang heavy in the air.

The rattling of chain and scraping of heavy iron door broke their standoff. The kitten trotted out, unconcerned with anything but its own journey.

“Come on pointy, out. Demon, you stay.” Callum jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. The demon lifted its head, following Ash’s journey to the door.

Cout drew their claws beneath them. Their tail arced high. Their gaze was lightning-focused on their new companion. A low chirp bounced off the stone floor. They’d heard the human tell them to stay, sure. But they weren’t about to let the first contact on The Middle  _ leave. _

They wound up launching themselves into the closing door with a WACK! They stumbled back, reeling.

The hunter shot the demon a severe look, “I said  _ stay. _ ”

“Come on.” He wrapped an arm around the shaken vampire, guiding him into the kitchen. Callum set the kid up with a cup of water at the table. He sat across. The kitten wandered off to another part of the house. He gave the kid a few minutes to breathe. Sure, he technically didn’t need to, but it was the principle of the thing.

Besides, he looked like he’d just spent the night with a drunk dog. Something you’re not sure you need to be wary of, but sure as hell don’t want to turn your back to,

“Debrief. Now.” He said once the kid regained what little color he possessed.

It had been a dull night, but not a useless one. The creature obviously craved contact. It purred. It was hungry.

They needed to fix that. And that meant they needed a variety.

Callum sent Ash for the bowls while he gathered a few things from the garden. It wasn’t a big thing, mainly herbs and medicinal plants, but he managed a few berry bushes. Birds got most of them, but he managed to salvage a small basket or so every year.

He placed them and a few market vegetables in one bowl. A handful of dirt and rocks went in another. Raw red meat went in a third, raw fish in a fourth. The fifth was half-full of pig’s blood, and the sixth had water.

Callum set the dishes on a tray and handed it to Ash. Based on the demon’s pacing Callum would need both hands free to keep the thing from bolting as soon as he opened the door.

He was right

It was waiting right behind the door. Its movements were quick, sweeping, sloppy. It was eager to see them. Or maybe just Ash. He couldn’t be sure.

Oh, but what a difference a single night had made.

Cout couldn’t stay  _ still. _ Even with their stomach biting itself into oblivion, they couldn’t stop. Tapping claws flew across tile. Their tail whipped with a mind of its own. It was elsewhere as soon as it arrived. Their hindquarters launched from wall to wall in a mad dash for nowhere. They had  _ someone! _ Sure, they were quiet. Sure, Cout couldn’t communicate with them.

Cout couldn’t care. Someone made contact, friendly contact.

They didn’t mind when the human caught them mid-leap. They headbutted the being that lead them to meeting their first friend on The Middle. A purr rumbled from their chest.

The not-human entered their room and put something on the ground. They wriggled against the human’s tightening grip. What was wrong? Why were they being stopped? Their friend shot a nervous glance their way… What? The human took advantage of their confusion, grabbing the device on their face with one hand. With the other he pointed to the thing on the ground. Cout took a moment to break from their stupor and look. Was that…?

“Can you eat any of that?” The human released them. Cout dropped to the floor, shaking. They barely registered the question. What was going on? Why couldn’t they interact with the not-human anymore? The human repeated its question.

The demon looked to the bowls in front of it, then to the human, then to the vampire. It shook its head, pawing at the muzzle. Its eyes were narrow, and a noise somewhere between a keen and a growl rose in its chest. Was the human mocking it?

“I mean if the muzzle wasn’t on. Would you be able to eat any of that?”

Cout nodded. Their stomach took charge where their mind was running scared or possibilities. Food was now. Food was certain. Food would help.

“Put your back up against the bars here.” The demon didn’t move. Callum elaborated, “I’ll take off the muzzle. But I need you to put your back to the wall so I can reach it.”

It complied, and the hunter set about removing the device.

“I don’t believe we’ve ever been properly introduced. They say one should never give their true name to a demon, but they also say the same about vampires. I’ve found ‘they’ are wrong quite often.” The hunter said, fiddling with the dorsal strap.

“I’m really not sure how much good this will do you, but I suspect we’ll find out soon.” He drew the harness through the bars, fully freeing the demon’s jaws.

Cout yawned and licked their lips.

“I go by Callum. The vampire, the other person, is known as Ash. Do you have a name?”

The demon paused. Something flashed over its features. Something Callum would have trouble identifying on a human simply due to the speed at which it passed. The demon grinned. Teeth longer than his torso bared in full.

It nodded.

“Can you tell me?”

The demon gave an aborted chuff, a low yowl, and tapped a claw on the tile. Cout let the human parse their best attempt and turned their attention to the bowls.


	12. Open

Cout set upon the bowls like a starving man. Which they were, minus the “man” part. They may prefer meat, but they weren’t about to be picky now. It was the most delicious thing they’d eaten since they arrived on The Middle. Cout had no clue what it was, but it was offered and it was edible.

“So… I take it you’re an omnivore?” It was a redundant question, asked more out of amusement than curiosity. The demon glanced up. One big black eye stared, the other hidden by the angle of its head. It gave a short nod.

“You’re surprisingly agreeable for a demon.” Callum mused.

That gave Cout pause. They cocked their head, food momentarily abandoned. The human raised an eyebrow.

“What, is twisting words and violent rampages considered polite behavior in hell?” He said.

The demon reared back. It shook its head furiously and leaned to sit on its haunches. The thing looked for all the world like it’d been slapped by an armchair, utterly bewildered and unsure how to continue.

It was Callum’s turn to pause. The question was asked half in jest. If the demon’s reaction was any indication though…

Cout reeled. Certain things made more sense. Why the human had been so distrustful, why it kept them so tightly immobilized. But what kind of demon was this human used to dealing with? The demons they knew would sooner flee or hide than fight. Sure, some of Hound’s Tooth’s romps could be unruly, but nothing to be classified as a “rampage.” Certainly not a violent one. Unless things were truly that different on The Middle?

But even then, most demons would flee. What kind of...

Sectionals.

Cout shuddered. The revelation hit them with the force and forewarning of a sucker punch. A lot and not much, respectively.

Sectionals Vanished far more often than any other demons. They must have been one of the few unlucky ones who’d gotten caught up in their mess. But what mess was it? Sectionals were known for their less than friendly demeanor.

They’d heard tales of strange languages, secret meetings, and spires drenched in blood, ariries hung with too much fire.

Those who insisted The King had something to hide. Cout was all for questions, for investigating hunches, but when a Sectional insisted… it was violent more often than not. Cout had agreed with some of their ideas even… and they’d still… they’d still…

They’d ripped off a wing.

Cut Out hadn’t known demons were capable of violence like that. That moment burned with white ice. Disbelief in what just happened. Even the other Sectionals were shocked.

And when Cut Out tried to run, to get help… the help they found… The King’s own guard tore off their other wing.

Perhaps The Sectionals had a point. Not every point, but one. But they’d never get closure on that, now would they?

And if Cout was right, Sectionals were to blame for their less than friendly welcome.

Cout shuddered. It happened. It all happened. They couldn’t forget it. They knew it would stay with them no matter how many lengths passed. But they could keep walking. Find help to actually  _ help _ them.

A claw unconsciously reached to touch the cloth binding their sides. If they closed their eyes they could almost imagine someone was wrapping their wings or coils around them. Perhaps they’d already found it.

Cout wished their barbs could catch the larger Strings of Reality. Fine detail work was no use if the base shape was wrong. They wished they could manipulate their throat to the proper shape. At least they no longer ached for food.

The demon yawned, if one could call “turning one’s front half into an open bear trap,” “yawning.” It brought its claws before it, flexing them as well. Callum considered them. An idea began its barest beginnings of forming.

“You can’t speak, but you can understand us.” Callum said, “Do demons have a system of writing?”

It nodded. Callum fished a piece of chalk from a pocket, offering it to the demon. “Can you show me?”

It looked to the chalk, then to the walls of its cell, then to Callum. It shook its head.

“Do you know how?” It nodded. “Then-”

A furious knocking cut him off.

“Ugh, what are they blaming me for this time?” The hunter grumbled. He jabbed a finger at the demon, “You, figure out why you can’t write and figure out a way to tell me how to fix it.” With that, he spun around and stalked to his front door. He was half-considering taking the clipboard with him. If not to let the person know he was in the middle of something, then perhaps to knock them over the head with.

He paused at the door, smoothing his demeanor. Going into this with expectations of confrontation would do him no good.

Callum knew he’d probably regret it later. He was right.

Yesterday’s angry farmer was back. Somehow, he’d gotten even angrier. Callum believed it may have something to do with the belt he was holding at arm’s length like a snake. The belt, for it’s part, was doing a fine job justifying the man. It writhed in his grip, coiling around whatever arm it could reach.

“You! Do something about this!” The man pried it off of his arm and hurled the belt. It smacked him in the face and began to constrict.


	13. Windings

How were they supposed to tell the human what they needed if what they needed was the thing they needed in order to tell them what they needed? And for that matter, did the human even know The Language of The Squall?

Perhaps they could try a Storm Script? No, that required wings to bring out writ Strings. Maybe Bone Scrawl? No, they had no bone.

Cout combed their mind for the basics of language. How had Old Veteran taught them? First you needed a common ground. But how to get one? Neither Callum nor Ash spoke a Deep Language. Cout doubted they’d know how to read Middle Script.

The answer hit them with all the finesse of a rock to the face. A sheepish grin crept across their face, despite no one else witnessing their struggle.

Could they draw a canvas? The thought was dismissed before it took off. Squall Scrawlings needed a three dimensional canvas. The slope and curve of the stalagmite or stalagtite was a key factor in punctuation.

They’d just go for simple illustrations.

* * *

His house was turning into a menagerie. First the vampire. Then the demon. Now a Western jatai who wont leave him alone. He’d tried leaving it in the woods, locking it in a box, nailing it to a tree. It always found its way back into his closet.

It was the farmers fault. You get enough bad snake dreams under your belt, your belt lashes out. He couldn’t really be mad at the farmer either. You couldn’t exactly control what dreams you had. The illness going around town wasn’t helping either. They weren’t the most common creatures, especially not in the west. Once you had one you couldn’t get rid of them.

You couldn’t kill a tsukumogami, just like you couldn’t kill a coat. What’s never been alive can never die. He set Ash on finding a way to deal with it. While annoying -the thing would rattle the buckle on its tail like some kind of surreal rattlesnake whenever he approached- it was relatively harmless.

Callum had more important things to get to anyways. The demon -whose name he was still parsing- was probably out of chalk by now. That, or it hadn’t gotten a single mark down. Callum was betting on the former. Judging by the smell, he was right.

All but one wall of the cell was covered in scrawls. Chalk dust floated on the air, mixing with the scent of blood. The demon had run out by the second wall.

Callum let out a deep, disheartened sigh. The demon’s self-mutilation was becoming a problem. At least this time it was just a cut on the tail.

“Pal, if you don’t stop hurting yourself, we’re going to have a problem.” It wasn’t an idle threat. It wasn’t really a threat at all. Callum wasn’t sure what they were going to do if this sort of behavior kept up. The thing was growing on him.

The demon recoiled half an inch. It raised one bloody claw to barely brush the floor. It peered at its most recent drawing.

Despite the rough initial impressions, it had been remarkably amicable. Callum ran a hand through his hair.

The demon smacked the back wall with a rear paw. They locked eyes. It reached up the wall to an odd set of symbols. A long downwards facing triangle starting where the wall met the ceiling. A circle on the ceiling touched the triangle’s upper edge. The set of symbols was mirrored on the floor, with the exception of that triangle’s point facing the ceiling.

“Is that what you need to write?”

The demon nodded vigorously. It promptly stopped, collapsing onto its hindquarters in a slight daze. Callum winced. Blood loss was a bitch. There wasn’t much he could except get the demon some water.

He entered the demon’s cell. A dish of water was held in one hand, the muzzle in the other. It watched him, motionless.

Callum gestured to the bowl, “Go on. Drink.”

It sat motionless for another beat and slowly, gingerly, crept towards the bowl. Its gaze flicked to the hunter every other moment. Callum took a step back. The creature froze. One second. Two. Thre- it crept forwards again.

Callum mused on the creature’s name once more as it drank. Was it Ch-ou-t? Perhaps C-oo-dt. K-oo-k? The last option brought a small smile to his face. A demon named “Kook.” That would be something. It probably _wasn’t_ the demon’s real name though.

A light pressure on his boot brought him from the thought. The demon had finished its drink. It’s claw rested on his worn boot. Achingly familiar but for the gaze fixed on his face. A question shone in its eyes. The figures stayed like that, statue still for what felt like an hour.

In reality it was around a minute and a half. No, not a question, Callum realized. A request. A plea.

Contact.

The creature released a cry dancing between rumble and trill.

It headbutted the hunter’s leg. White pupils darted to the muzzle. It pushed past him, darting behind his back. Callum spun. It stopped right where it started.

The demon drew to its full height.

Scales glittered pewter in the dim light. Medallions half-melted into light skin. Its head was the bone-white of a skull picked clean. Crest sweeping back and standing tall against the sky. Maw drawn to torso, curled to permanent frown. Shoulders jutted sharp against its chest. Arms thin, black and shimmering. Insect limbs on a massive scale. Claws dark and sharp, segmented needles. Rear barbed, like fish hooks. Heavy rear-paws grounding its reaching build. Tail whipping and curling around the room. Long arks of grey trailing venomous green.

It loomed.

It grinned.


	14. Cone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note: The last section of the last chapter came out really ominous. I do not regret it despite its misleading tone.
> 
> Will add pictures later

It shouldn't be able to smile without malice or threat.

It chirped and fell forward. Callum clamped down on the reflex to strike it away before it hit his chest. Only moments before the demon had his back. It had done nothing. Its eyes were closed.

Despite the skull’s lack of padding it was surprisingly gentle against Callum’s chest. It chirped again. He reached one hand up and slowly, tentatively, stroked its crest. It shuddered, eyes snapping to his.

“How do you write?”

Callum stiffened at the pressure on his ankle. The demon’s barbed tail wrapped it gently, not moving even as the demon ducked to the triangular wall markings.

The demon set its bottom jaw against the floor and opened its mouth. Impossibly long teeth stood against the dark wall. It reached up to grab a tooth. Callum stepped forward.

“If you tear one of those out you’re not gonna be able to open your mouth for a year.”

The demon paused. It ran a finger up one tooth. It rose, side still to the wall. The top of its head brushed the ceiling. The shadow of its fangs stood against the chalk silhouette. Thin and pointed, slightly longer than the outline… with a round profile, Callum realized.

“You need some kind of cone.”

Jaws snapped shut. It chirped and nodded. The demon fell back to all fours. Bipedalism was fine, but Cout preferred quadrupedal stability.

“... You’ll need to let go for me to do anything.”

* * *

In order to get a cone Callum needed to get out of the house. To get out of the house, he needed pants that wouldn’t fall down. Technically he didn’t, but it was vastly preferable for all parties if he did. And to keep his pants up, Callum needed a belt. Therein lay the issue.

The Jatai was hoarding his belts in a bizarre harem. And it was _protective._ There’s a reason parents will threaten with “the belt.” When the belt itself was the one doing the lashing… Callum broke out the raptor gloves.

“Ash! Grab a bag!” Callum shouted. He wrestled the Jatai off his arm. One hand grabbed each end. He pulled the belt taut.

Stuffing the thing in a bag and tying the top onto itself was the only way to keep it contained for any length of time. Usually it was too much of a bother, but now… he handed the bag back to the vampire.

His trip was short, consisting of giving a sketch to the carver, receiving an odd look from the carver, picking up a few groceries, crossing the street to avoid a coughing woman, and taking a look at the job postings. There was a minor haunting past the borders, and a wendigo infestation way above his paygrade. Both were passed up for a case of dragon snails a few towns over. He’d have to get to that soon.

Callum opened the door to a ball of fluff staring him down. The kitten hopped from its perch just in time. The Jatai struck the wall where it stood moments before. Callum glared at what used to be a simple accessory. It coiled and rattled.

The belt struck at his face.


	15. Confirmation

He grabbed at the thing on pure reflex. It slipped past his fingers and over shoulder, striking something behind him. Callum recoiled. Was there a rat the kitten missed, or… something _crunched_ under the Jatai’s coils. Callum caught glimpses of papery skin, bony knuckles.

The oniate on his windowsill didn’t stand a chance. Fragile bones snapped and shattered in the belt’s thick leather coils.

“... Okay, you can stay.” Callum said. Seems like he’d be holding his pants up with twine for a while.

In the meantime, he’d wait for the carver to finish. That, and test a few things. With everything else roaming his house, it didn’t particularly seem fair to the demon to keep it cooped up. The poor thing was bursting at the seams to let loose, if the whirlwind romp around its cell was any indication. Callum had been wanting to get a reading on its speed anyways.

But before that could happen he needed to seal the exits. Demon repellents were a highly debated subject among hunters. Half the time it seemed like what worked for one demon wouldn’t work on another, and other times the tried and tested methods worked like clockwork.

Callum suspected each demon had different weaknesses. Perhaps there were subspecies. It would go some ways to explain how they could look so different while simultaneously retaining certain similar features.

All demons had wings. Every single one. Except Lanky, and even then the demon obviously had an extra set of limbs removed.

Almost all demons had some form of horns. Callum suspected the ones that didn’t merely had them in a non-obvious place. Or maybe they were antlers. He’d have to wait and see. There didn’t appear to be any seam to drop them, but who knows.

For now he’d test the creature’s reaction to a few things. But first… he fished a list from his pocket.

“Hello again.”

The demon chirped and bounded about its cell like a rubber ball.

“Yes, yes. I’m excited too. I think I may have figured out your name. Nod when I get to it, okay?”

Callum went through Quok, Koot, Chut, and many more before finally landing on “Cout.” The demon’s trill could’ve broken glass. It’s entire torso nodded, eliciting an almost unnoticeable wince. Cout couldn’t help it.

Someone would be calling their name! Not “demon” or “creature” or “it” or “Lanky.” Their  _ name. _ Something  _ clicked. _ A warmth bloomed in their chest, rimmed with pleasant coolness. Uncertainty shrank and faded. Cout purred. They basked in the pleasant sensation, bathing in the cleansing wash.

Callum drew his mouth to a thin line.

“Do you want to run around?”

The demon chirped and nodded. The corner of his mouth sank. The thing -Cout- was like an abused dog. Fearful to the point of aggression at first, but incredibly affectionate to anyone who’d give half a chance. Hopefully this wouldn’t be too painful.

“First, we’re going to need to try a few things. This may be… unpleasant.”

Holy water, a hazel stick, a scorpion trapped in amber. A pentagram he’d received from a witch. A bundle of sage. A scarab amulet. A few human teeth (he had a good relationship with his teeth dealer). White candles, iron and salt.

Nothing worked.

It was pretty strong holy water, blessed by a cardinal. He’d burned a dullahan with the same iron rod. Cout sniffed it and batted it.

Looked like he’d be sticking to a simple locked door. Maybe a leash. He wasn’t sure what would be long, strong, and light enough for the job. The demon was getting stronger every day.

He’d need to find a surefire way to keep it contained, without keeping it cooped up. The demon hadn’t taken a moment of rest since he’d allowed it access to the hall. It was prowling on the ceiling, batting the few cobwebs he couldn’t reach and the Oniate hadn’t gotten to.

It seemed content enough in the hall. But for how long? Callum wasn’t about to let it free roam. Not for a while, at least. He’d need to leave soon as well. Those dragon snails wouldn’t stay forever.

Ash wasn’t capable of handling the demon in its more energetic states. Callum wasn’t about to leave it cooped up for days either… Should he bring it with him?

No, no. Bad idea. Too risky. Although… he’d been considering offering Ash the opportunity. Handling the demon for a few days wouldn’t be a bad start. Even if Ash didn’t want to come along in the end it’d be a decent learning opportunity.

Yes, he’d oversee a few days of interaction between the toothy parties. He’d make sure everything was running smoothly. Then he’d go deal with the snails.


	16. Broken

His hands would not stop shaking. Callum wanted... Callum wanted... It was up to Ash to change its bandages.

“You’ve already spent a night with this guy. There’s nothing to fear.”

Ash shot him a look part indignation, part confusion, and mostly sardonicism. Hadn’t he  _ just _ said, “Demons are the most dangerous creatures you’ll ever face. If you can deal with this, you can deal with anything.”

Callum realized after the fact this may not have been the best thing to say. “This one is perfectly safe. They couldn’t bite even if they wanted to, and I sincerely doubt they want to.”

“That’s… that’s not what...” His jaw shut with a snap. Callum held up a hand.

“Okay. What is the problem?”

Ash didn’t say anything for a solid minute. Callum set about gathering the last bits of equipment. Cout stared at their claws. Callum’s words still echoed in their head. They’d known demons didn’t have the best reputation on The Middle. Sectionals weren’t good representatives of the entire demon population. Really, no demon would be, what with different string affinities and the occasional Yokai working on their own system, but Sectionals? Sectionals were exceptionally bad. But… the  _ most dangerous? _

It didn’t make any sense. Cout  _ knew _ angels had access to The Middle. According to Old Veteran and Listing Jackal they didn’t make many appearances, but they were  _ powerful. _ Manipulative. They swept everything away, friend and foe alike.

They were cataclysms. Those few who managed to withstand their might… they weren’t spoken of much. They couldn’t tell friend from foe. They were indiscriminately dangerous. It was sick, really. Angels tear the plains with no regard and leave survivors to do the same. Only those at the feathered edge of their blasts had any chance of a normal life after. Even then, it took lengths upon lengths of work. Even then, most were never the same.

Cut Out had only ever seen the direct results of their work twice. Once they’d followed Old Veteran for lengths. The earth demon slithered past the pits, to The Place of Cries. Cut Out paced at the edge of the pits. Demons in The Place jumped at their shadow. Those with unbound jaws snapped.

The air raked their spine. The air was hot and still. Wrongwrong wrong wrong right wrongwrong wrongwrongwrong wrong wrong rightrightwroing wrongwrongwrong. They dashed past deep pits, skidding and slipping in their rush. Shadows were thrown into the air from beneath, from the glow of the lava beds in each pit and the demons kept within.

Old veteran hunched over a pit. “You shouldn’t be here.” One wing tucked tight against their back. The other extended down, towards the Broken.

The tattered remains of a wing was tied to its strut. Their tail cut off a few hands behind their hips. A disheveled crest of feathers ringed their head.

Cout shuddered in their own binds. They looked to their own wings. Or, rather, where they should be. Something began forming form the dark mists in the corner of their mind. A thought they couldn’t yet form, but knew they didn’t want to.

The demon shook their head. Distraction. They needed a distraction. They looked back to their own claws, to the bindings fixing them to the slab. What kind of demons was the human used to dealing with?

Sectionals were bad. Broken would be worse. Was that who the humans were used to handling? Those who lash out with no rhyme or reason? It would explain the “violent rampages” Callum spoke of. But not the “twisting words.”

Few would notice when they Vanished. Few frequented The Place of Cries. Cout realized too late  _ how _ few.

“You shouldn’t be here.” They’d said. The demon in the pit prowled. Its eyes slit to crosses. Its remaining wing hobbled with its hooved legs. The demon raised its bound head to the two demons at its pits ridge. It  _ Screamed. _

Cut Out ran. Ran from the terrible place. Ran from the madness and fear and pain and rage in the Broken’s eyes. Ran from the ineffable glint in Old Veteran’s eyes, from unknowable reason the spines barely starting their rise.

Ran to Heavy Step and Hound’s Tooth. Buried themselves under the wings of their friends and sobbed.

They liked thinking about the second encounter with angel work even less.

They didn’t remember much of it. Just the screams of the Broken. Sharp hooves striking. Heavy flows from the demon’s bound jaws. Their harsh breaths when the demon was pulled from them. Screeching and soothing gestures directed at they didn’t know who. Looping string manipulation of shadow demons. The Broken, splayed and pinned to the ground.

Old Veteran checked Cut Out, then turned to the Broken. They whispered things to it, spread a wing over it. The Broken twitched. It was all they could do. Cut Out had recoiled at the demon’s reaction. What had to happen to a demon for a kind gesture to evoke fear?

The not-human -Ash- had done the same. Flinched at their contact, they realized. Cout hadn’t thought much about it at the time. The first contact they’d had in lengths was too distracting. But now… were the gestures different for whatever species Ash was?

The thought of the not-human drew them from memories and musings. They were treating the wounds on their sides. They’d been aching less and less the past few lengths. They turned to their own wounds. The spots where wings should sit. The thought they didn’t want solidified.

Their mind tore to a distraction, any distraction. The broken demon. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was better than  _ that. _ . It had been a wind demon, hadn’t it? The few feathers still clinging to its wing didn’t lie.

Its crest had been ragged from lack of grooming. Its singular tooth had been hidden by thick binding. Cout wondered if they had bitten friends or themselves. What had taken its wing and tail? Was it the wind demon themselves? Was that why…

Cout’s own jaws were bound. But that was because the human didn’t trust them. Right? Not because… because… they’d bitten themselves. But that was because they’d thought they’d still had wings. Not just to self mutilate.

But who’s to say that’s not how the Broken thought?


	17. Options

Cout gave a keen and set their head against their paws.

Broken were formed from Angel destruction. And they hadn’t encountered any Angels. So they couldn’t be Broken.

But… Cut Out had acted like a Broken, hadn’t they? Running and lashing out at any who came close. But that was because they were being chased by humans.

Who’s to say that’s not what Broken thought? What they saw? It _would_ explain some things.

Who’s to say only the Angels could make Broken? They’d never met a demon without wings before. Sure, they’d heard of demons with injured wings, wings missing chunks of flesh or bone. Demons with only one wing, even. They’d only ever seen three of those, and only for a few moments before they had to tear their eyes away from the awful sight. They’d been the ones leaping the highest and screaming the loudest.

And the wind demon.

Cout hadn’t been screaming. But Cut Out had, for a bit. In pain, in fear, in terror and mind melting panic.

After the second tear though… they’d slept, hadn’t they. Not on purpose either. Pain and fear and terror and mind melting panic shredded a demon’s energy. Cout knew that now.

Fresh air against their wrists snapped them from their mental spiral.

Ash was unbinding them. Odd. Faint confusion seeped through the cracks of other whirling, panicked thoughts. Fresh air and bewilderment gummed the 

Ash froze. He looked to Callum, silently begging for instruction. The demon hadn’t moved the whole procedure, but now…

Concern spun behind Callum’s eyes. Concern, and questions. Why was it so still? Hed it exhausted its energy reserves in yesterday's romp? Possible, but unlikely. Was it afraid of Ash? No, they’d -for lack of a better term- cuddled. More comfortable? Possible. If so, they’d be working more closely with the demon more often.

Or was it something else entirely?

Was any of what they were seeing real? It… it _should_ be. Nothing had happened to their eyes.

Cout’s mind swam. The same few questions, and the one they never wanted asked. Were they ever going to make sense of the Middle? Was this what happened when you lost both wings? You un-broke? Could demons Break other…

They pawed at their skull. No. Don’t think about that. And certainly not the implications of the others. Distract yourself. Go over your scribbles?

Their room was clean. Something tense uncoiled just a little in their gut. They hadn’t realized how much the disorganized mess was bugging them until it was gone. If they got another writing stick they’d go for a more organized, less overcome-with-joy-at-a-chance-to-communicate.

They paced. They reviewed facts. They watched the human-shaped beings converse. Their mind raced and whipped too much to focus on what they were saying.

“You don’t need to join it if you don’t want to.”

Ash sagged against his hand. Callum frowned. He’d need to leave sooner or later. He had a feeling it was going to be sooner.

It had been a week since he’d brought the demon home. With every bit Cout made the house its home it seemed Ash was pushing further away. Saying Ash was a little wary was like saying an Earth Serpent was a little destructive. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing either. Wariness kept you on your toes, kept you alive.

The issue came when it paralyzed you. The vampire wouldn’t be ready for any kind of field word before he overcame that “freeze, recoil, and shake” response. He needed to push the kid past his comfort zone. Just a little, not so much he balked or shattered.

Callum really didn’t want to pick up those pieces again. He knew Ash wouldn’t either. He probably couldn’t. Not again.

So he had to be gentle. Let the kid recover a night. Cout would have to make it another night with no company. Or perhaps… He had some extra energy. He could keep it company for a little.

The demon chirped when he entered. It stopped a few feet from him and watched. Callum was no expert on demon tones or expressions but the thing seemed almost… distant. Unfocused. Callum itched to know its thoughts.

He settled down and the demon padded to his side. It remained a foot away and sat still for at least half a minute. A claw reached towards him. It still wasn’t focusing on him. Not fully, at any rate. Was the gesture a force of habit? Probably not. Ash would’ve mentioned it.

Or would he? It was a fairly small thing. He’d need to compare notes in the morning. As it was, he needed to get a little sleep. He nodded at the demon. It shifted, paw to paw, eventually nosing under his arm.

They sat like that for hours. Eventually the human left for their own sleeping quarters. The demon let out a faint whimper when the warmth left their side. He gave it a final stroke between the horns and left.

Callum dreamed that night.


	18. Preparation

He didn’t usually dream. Too dangerous. A Tutu effigy, dreamcatchers, and svefnthorn carvings stopped the bad ones. He could count the number of good ones in the past few years on one hand with fingers to spare.

Yet, he dreamed. The first question was how? There were two options, either his subconscious was telling him he needed to get his act together about something or… Outside interference.

Judging by the echoing, fire, and bells, Callum suspected the latter. Eyes blinked in and out of existence before him. He could see everything, as though he was covered in them as well. Everywhere was light and eyes and bells upon bells.

They all turned to one direction. Callum followed the gaze of thousands.

Images of the demon laying siege to cities. Of mountains of grey scale. Of fire blasting from its maw, of sparks leaping from teeth to burn fields. Of charcoal tracks and of ash blow with great wingbeats.

“It doesn’t have wings.”

“.?.*?”

“It doesn’t have wings. I’ve observed no indication of pyromaniacal tendencies.”

“.<>..”

“Besides, Cout’s nowhere near that big. You seem to be thinking of a dragon. Or possibly an infuriated phoenix.”

“.yOU{}{{~Na----m-ed!!!! _It_+?=” The eyes flickered, blazing and shrinking and beginning a whirlwind spin.

“It named itself.” Another bright flash. Flakes of ash whirled with the eyes. The shrieking whistle of an arrow flying past your ear filled his head.

“=Y=ou SAI#D !It+ Ha$%d~ nO Wings..oO0*.” The eyes flinched, all in different directions

“What does that have to do with anything? And for that matter what are y-” The sensation rippling through him could only be described as being unfolded from the inside out. Like a set of cards lay overlapping on the table, the space between his lungs the starting card.

And he was awake.

* * *

Callum mulled over the dream. It was possible his subconscious was simply trying to tell him something or process recent developments. Years of experience told the hunter it was more than likely some supernatural nonsense. Years of experience were rarely wrong. Sometimes, but not often.

It was the sometimes you had to look out for. So, Callum spent the first part of the day pouring over his notes. What kind of creature could influence dreams? More to the point, what kind of mindwalker wasn’t he defended against?

It wasn’t baku. They ate dreams, not caused them. He had no trouble breathing, so it couldn’t be a pesanta or sub-hag. There hadn’t been any recent renovations, so he doubted a batibat was to blame.

None of them should be able to get defenses anyway. He poured into older texts. He found it. It wasn’t in any esoteric scriptures, or obscure times. It was right in front of him, the whole time. An angel.

So many questions. Mainly variations on why and what. Most answers he wouldn’t be getting without the angel’s input. He pushed them to the side. He didn’t have time for cryptic dreams. There was tangible work to be done.

The morning went by in a flash. Soon Callum was playing fetch with a vampire and a demon. Said demon had nosed the ball and batted it before tossing it down the hall.

The ball was different from the smooth, fleshy pods of an eye-plant. Hard and fuzzy, but almost as light as a pod. And judging by the game they were playing with Callum, it had the same function.

It wasn’t much, wasn’t complex. But it was more than they’d had in so many lengths and it was Wonderful. Their claws slipped over smooth stone and they smacked into a wall. Joy flooded and overwhelmed any pain.

Demon and human switched throwers each time. Callum took note of the demon’s back-heavy gait. Cout’s tail would whip to keep the demon balanced in tight turns. It didn’t work particularly well in such a tight space. The whap! of tail against wall woke Ash.

“Take this.” He handed the vampire the ball. He stared at the ball, sill half-asleep.

It fixated on the ball, then on his face. Back to the ball. Face again. If cocked its head and shifted its weight. Ash swallowed rising fear and gave the ball a half-hearted toss. Cout tripped over itself to chase it.

“You’re doing fine kid.”

The ball flew through the air, hitting the wall past hunter and vampire. Ash startled. The demon trotted back. It cocked its head.

Why hadn’t Ash moved? It was his turn. Did he not understand? Was the game different on The Middle? They handed Ash the ball.

The demon would chase on four legs, retrieve on two. Callum was reminded of the ancient flightless bird-dragons. Those with singular giant “killing claws” and hunched bipedal gait.

It set a foreclaw on the ground in front of Ash. It flashed teeth behind its muzzle.

* * *

“Now, what do you do if it attacks?”

“... die?”

Callum raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry, I just… I- I don’t-don’t-don’t wa-ant you to leave.”

“I get that kid. But I’m not going anywhere until I’m sure you’re going to be okay.”

Ash didn’t meet his eyes.

“Besides kid, it’s unlikely to come to that.”

Ash looked to the table. To the restraints and fresh bandages. A twitch of the head to the shaded lights. Another twitch to the Y-shaped stick and needle Callum held out.

“Now, what do you do if it attacks?”


	19. Reflection

“Someone spotted some kind of multi-headed serpent out in the fields. You’re going to be alone for the day.”

Ash nodded and Callum was gone, a list left in his place.

And what was with all the recent snakes? First the jatai, now this? And “multi-headed snake?” Thanks for the specificity. Was he dealing with an aspect of Sheesha? A three headed cobra? A hydra? A caduceus serpent? An amphisbaena?

Some options were more likely than others. Based on the reported size and wetland habitat, Callum suspected he was dealing with either a young hydra or a weaker aspect of Sheesha.

Callum sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He _knew_ he really shouldn’t be so frustrated at his neighbors. It could be hard for a trained eye to tell the difference, especially at a distance. And the town finally got it in their head not to confront the strange creatures. It’d only taken three years and twice the number of maimings. 

Even now the respect was grudging. Wary side-eyes were thrown his way more often than normal looks. Bringing a demon back to town hadn’t helped any. They’d just gotten over the vampire “living” amongst them. Try as one might -and did- one really can’t argue with three years of results and lack of throat ripping.

At least the town had streets.

Callum hated wetland jobs. Muck stuck his boots, making movement difficult and -more importantly- loud. There was no way to sneak up on anything. Anything that wasn’t deaf, at least. And water always got in his socks. Always. At least the colder climate mostly deterred mosquitoes.

Callum wondered what sort of terrain the demon was built for. Wide hind paws suggested affinity for sand or snow. The tiny beetle-bird forepaws and prehensile tail seemed more suited for arboreal movement. Large eyes and aversion to light were nocturnal adaptations.

Then there was the bipedal and quadrupedal gaits. Cout could switch between them with ease, it seemed. The long tail was a counterbalance when it was on two paws. Large hindquarters and thick rear paws shifted the creature’s center of gravity. Callum had to look into how it climbed his walls and ceilings. It seemed no trouble for the demon to scale sheer surfaces.

But what sort of terrain required an adaptation like that? That, _and_ wings. Perhaps the wings weren’t for flight, but show. Similar to a chameleon's color changing or a peacock’s tail.

Or perhaps they were an extra set of hands. Western dragons were entirely quadrupedal and were commonly observed using the claws on their wings to manipulate surroundings.

Of course, it was always possible he was entirely wrong and the creature somehow didn’t even have wings to begin with, or they were used for something entirely foriegn to human knowledge.

His boots made another wet squeltch. The hatchling went _thunk_ against his boot.

Baby hydras were significantly more dangerous than adults in one aspect, their venom. Babies couldn’t control how much they injected.

Callum pinned the thing with his tongs. The baby writhed, snapping three heads about in a fearful frenzy.

Milking a hydra was a tricky task. Adults were far too big to even attempt, and babies always had at least three heads. You pin one head, the other two are going to bite your fingers. Callum broke out the iron reinforced gloves.

The hatchling’s fangs unfolded from the roof of its mouth. Venom pumped into a collection jar. A bite was lethal, and their blood ate through iron, but when modified both had their uses. Diluted hydra venom was one of the most potent tranquilizers.

He drained the other two heads and placed the serpent in a bag. The hunt continued. Callum wondered how Ash and Cout were doing.

* * *

Ash wasn’t sure how he was doing.

The first section of his day was spent fervently trying to distract himself. He poured over a book on suturing methods. He took care of non-demon related items on the list. The kitten needed food. Certain compounds had to be disturbed every other hour. Ash organized and inventoried the cabinets while he was at it. The latter activity scratched a deep itch but did nothing against the rising anxiety.

He tried telling himself it would be fine. That Cout wasn’t going to hurt him. That he wasn’t going to mess up. He couldn’t let Callum come back to bloodstained walls. The last one helped a little. It was at least a goal.

He looked to the list he’d been left. The kitten hopped onto his lap. After the reflexive freeze and jolt of fear at sudden contact he began stroking the little thing between the ears. It gave a little purr and kneaded his thigh.

He had to change the demon’s bandages, check on their wounds, and record its weight. There was a footnote at the bottom reading, “If you want to keep it company I wouldn’t be upset.”

The demon paced all four sides of its cell. When it spotted the vampire it perked up. The demon raced about its cage, literally leaping off the walls.

Ash flinched. Shaking legs didn’t help the rising anxiety was he approached its cell.

“N-n-now I-I-I-I-I-I,” He swallowed, “I don’t wa-ant any tr-troub-ble.”

The demon blinked once and set its horns against the bars. It gave a rumbling coo.

If things went wrong he- he had no one to turn to.

Something clunk-ed upstairs. Ash was torn. On one hand, distraction. A way to put off dealing with the demon a little longer. On the other, it might be dangerous. His gut twisted at the thought of heading up to a windowed room in the day.

The vampire pricked an ear. He couldn’t _hear_ anything moving around. That was… good? He was going with good.

Ash licked his lips and said a silent, well… not quite _prayer,_ but _something_ to _someone._ He grabbed the Y-stick and opened the door _._

Cout cocked their head and chirped. Their tail flicked in excitement undampened by the device in Ash’s hand. They’d come to tolerate the thing. They sat with their head forward, crest up for the not-human to attach it.

The muzzle’s buckles rattled in Ash’s grip. Were his eyes playing tricks, or did the demon’s horn just twitch? He fumbled with the straps, fingertips were numb.

Cout set a claw on the device, fixing it in place for the obviously struggling not-human. Ash froze. What… what- what!? Bewildered panic swilred in his gut, pulling his innards and making the vampire nauseous. He finished as quick as he could and stumbled back.

Cout extended an arm. They hesitated. What was the matter? Ash only got worse after he got a good look at their claws. Was there something on their claws?

The kitten poked its nose into the cell. Cout chirped a greeting. The kitten gave a little mewl in response. She trotted to the unhappy nice-feeling not-pelt-changing thing and sniffed. She headbutted his leg then trotted over to the good-weird smelling-of-blood thing.

Being warm together helped when she wasn’t feeling good. Then they’d be warm together and she’d be warm with them and they’d be warm and happy.

Of course the kitten didn’t realize she produced the most warmth out of the group. Ash didn’t produce _any_ heat when sedentary, and Cout’s was minimal. No one but the kitten knew her plan either, so it wasn’t exactly important.

Cout padded forward. Ash could do nothing but watch, petrified. They gave a muted chirp and gingerly brushed the not-human with their snout. Ash curled into a ball, shaking. The demon retreated. What happened? They _knew_ there was nothing on their nose. What was wrong? They were upset, and upset people needed touch.

Or was it different on The Middle?

It was different on The Middle.

They lay, claw next to Ash’s leg, body out of reach. Their mind raced, thoughts twisting every whitdch way and all directions at once like the roots of a great plant. They grabbed one thread and held fast. It didn’t matter where it lead. Anything to ground the chaos of their own mind.

Had they made a mistake that time, sleeping against Ash? Was touching some kind of taboo? Was it simply Ash? The little fuzzy thing curled against their pectoral crest. They remembered the other time, with Callum. The human seemed fine.

And… so had Ash, after a while. Or had he? Cout combed their memory. Exhaustion and joy had muddled their mind that time. Ash had to have gotten better, right?

Right?

It took a bit for Ash to withdraw from his panic because Callum was out and he was gone and it was day and he was going to die oh lord he didn’t want to die and it was _right there_ and…

He wasn’t dead. Something in the back of his mind piped up that _technically_ he was. He ignored that voice. He was more focused on the bewildering fact that he was not dead. Or injured, for that matter. Sure, the demon couldn’t bite, but it still had claws and a bladed tail. Said tail provided the only movement in the room, its bladed tip flicking across stone floor.

Its head lay on the floor. It looked at him. Soft humming rose from its throat.

He got to work.

His legs still shook, but he could walk.

With the muzzle’s weight subtracted the demon was 25 pounds*

* * *

Callum managed to catch another hatchling before calling it a day. Hydras rarely had more than four eggs per clutch anyways. It was possible there were more, but he’d deal with that if it came. The other hatchling was five headed and slightly larger.

He released the three headed hatchling deeper in the woods. The trek home was long. Or maybe it seemed that way when you’re exhausted, mud keeps trying to eat your boots, and you’re carrying a bag with a dangerous animal.

He got home just as the sun peeked its last rays below the horizon. Muddy boots were removed at the door. It was quiet. Not silent, never silent. Quiet.

Something always rustled in the walls, spoke from the grass. The last dregs of ereyesterday’s rain dripped into murky puddles. Sparrow hapries gave their last cry of the day, thunder owls their first nightly screech.

And below was silent.

A quick check found both demon and vampire as whole as he left them. He made eye contact with Ash. The vampire returned with something not quite pleading, or worried, or confident, or satisfied. Callum left him to his book and the bladed tail laid over his foot.

He began on a notification. Live hydra hatchlings were some of the most sought-after creatures for one reason. They were unlikely to have a taste for human. Once they bit a person they were a menace, but before that they were incredibly important to their habitats. If the townsfolk kept their distance things should be fine. Hydras were generally low-energy creatures.

Multiple heads took a lot of energy to maintain, even with a mainly centralized nervous system and shared venom pool. Multiple sub-sensory processors took quite a lot of fuel. Combined with a serpent’s base ectothermia, and you wound up with an extremely sedate animal.

He’d heard tale of an eccentric person or two who tired to keep them as pets. It only ever worked out once. The rest of the time… Callum needed to be sure whoever took the baby was going to release it responsibly.

He glanced to the bag holding the baby and the notice it sat on. He’d need to get on it soon, both of them. He was in no position to feed something with five heads, and if he waited much longer someone else would take the dragon snail job. They were fairly easy, and their jobs always paid well. For Callum they had another draw. Their unique slime never kept long. There was always more to test with it.

Perhaps he could find someone in the snail town who’d take it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *22.7 kg or 3.6 stone


	20. Tense

The wooden cone had come while he was out. Callum was more than eager to begin decoding the demon’s language, if not for one thing. He had to deal with the snails.

“Kid, you did fine.” He told the vampire. Ash looked like death warmed over, more so than usual.

Ash nodded. Some time overnight his brain ran out of panic chemicals. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling now, but it was something light and empty.

“T-thank you ssszzzzirrrr.”

Callum blinked. Slurring wasn’t usual for Ash. The kid must’ve been _exhausted._ “Go, get some rest. I’ll be gone by the time you’re back, but I shouldn’t be long. Will you be able to handle everything for a few days?”

Callum wasn’t aware the vampire could pale more. The more you know.

Ash swallowed. Things could change. Tonight could be worse. Tonight could be better. The demon hadn’t tried attacking. It’d backed off when Ash couldn’t take it anymore. He nodded. It was shaky and hesitant.

“Are you sure?” There was always the option not to go. It wasn’t a good option though. Putting everything else aside, Callum had a job. They would be okay for a little while without income, but not much longer. And this job was close…

“I-I-I-I-I-I” Ash swallowed, “I can try.”

Callum gave the vampire one last look and nodded. “There’s instructions on the table. I’ll be back as soon as possible. Get some sleep. Everything else can wait.”

And he was off.

It was also something he was chomping at the bit for. There was always more to explore with dragon snail slime. Plus, Callum thought, it might be a good bribe for a certain witch when packaged with a bottle or two of demon blood.

Dealing with snails was easy. The job delivered by the messenger that almost ran him over… it was less so. He wasn’t sure what was the culprit there. Something was cleaning out the streets and graves a few towns over. It was only about a day’s ride from present location, but half a week from home.

Every night was a new grave. Callum didn’t see it as _too_ urgent, most likely a detritivore. However, some people reported a man-sized bipedal figure doing the eating. Well worth an investigation.

Plus, someone might be more willing to take the hatchling there,

He’d be quick. Ash would have to forgive his late return.

* * *

The second day was easier. Callum’s reassurances of his satisfactory work was a huge weight off Ash’s shoulders.

He’d directed the vampire to continue his daily chores and to give the demon the block of wood and chalk. He was to see if he could decode any of the demon’s writing. He would ask for its assistance if need be, provided he was comfortable with the proximity.

The wooden spike reminded Cout of Old Veteran’s spines. They used to climb over his coils and tuck themselves behind them. Hound’s Tooth would chase them over Old Veteran’s coils, dodging spines. Sometimes the earth demon would move their spines for a little extra challenge.

A pang wrenched their pectoral crest. They’d never see them again. They’d never see another demon, period. Considering those who vanish though… they probably wouldn’t want to meet any demon who made it to The Middle.

Maybe the King could make it, Cout mused. Rumor had it King could see the happenings of The Middle. Other rumors said they originated on the plane. Cout wasn’t sure, but wasn’t going to dismiss anything.

They looked to Ash. 

* * *

He arrived just before sundown. Not enough time to gather much information, but enough to get a base idea of the situation.

Everyone’s first suspect was an animal. Traps were set. Nothing came of them. Few managed even a glimpse of the culprit.

He set up a stakeout at the graveyard. It didn’t take long for the culprit to reveal itself. A distorted figure with a thin neck and pot belly, there was not mistaking a preta.

* * *

Hooked point once bragged about finding a black string. No one of them believed the wind demon until they showed it.

The games they played with that string were amazing. Intoxicating and invigorating beyond any other string manipulation. Black strings were rare and powerful and slippery. No one knew why some strings were black.

They’d heard rumors of tangles of black strings. Sapient beings who walked on two legs and vanished when looked upon.

To write in The Language of The Squall one needed depth. Punctuation relied on the depth of holes, tone needed texture. Cout needed their teeth. Their claws and blade were nowhere close to strong enough.

Cout scratched at the thing on their face. It didn’t budge. It was time for plan )^. They reached for the strings for the first time in so many lengths.

They were all black.

* * *

The figure made a mad dash for the wood’s edge. The woods moved.

Something massive was hidden among the trees. Almost impossible to see in his lamp’s meager light, it was a wall of _something moving._

Spikes raised over the treeline, cutting themselves against mist.

Something raised, like fields extended to the sky. It blocked the moon.

The demon made a strange circular gesture with one wing wrist, like it was wafting a scent towards it.

A great head lowered. Its stony crest stretched easily as wide and tall as his house. There was a wet click, like the set of a jaw. Disturbingly quiet from a creature of such size.

“I… I made a mistake.” It rumbled with the near inaudible* base of stone speaking.

"I have questions."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Near inaudible due to just how low it is. It’s on the very edge of human hearing range


	21. Voices

“What are you?”

He'd never heard of a shapeshifter of this size, but the only other option was a dragon or Jormungandr itself. Dragons couldn't speak to anyone's knowledge, and the world wasn't ending, so shifer was the horse to bet on. Of course, it could be something completely new, but a species like that -a non-shape or sizeshifting one- would've almost certainly been discovered by now.

“Demon.”

 _Fuck._ It wasn’t just Cout then. There was something seriously wrong with their perception of demons. In their temperament, _and_ size limitations.

Something that size would’ve easily crushed entire towns if it wanted. It would be impossibly easy.

Yet, it didn’t. And here Callum was, holding a conversation with it. Perhaps it was simply waiting for an opportunity to manipulate. Why would it need to though? Was it a game to the demon?

“Did you send the preta?”

“The what?”

Callum gestured to the spirit clambering on the demon’s spines like a spider.

“Oh. Yes. I did.”

“And why would that be?” And how? Pretas weren’t the easiest spirits to work with. All greed, little to no negotiation.

The demon didn’t respond for a long minute. There was silence. Not even crickets dared chirp in the presence of the demon. Stars didn’t dare show themselves behind the mist’s cover. Even the moon seemed to draw back in the night sky.

Finally, it spoke, “I made a mistake.”

“You’ve said this. You still haven’t told me what, nor have you answered my question.”

“...” The demon was silent. Callum set his jaw. Fine. We’ll get back to that latter.

“Why can you talk but Cout can’t?”

The demon tilted its head. One wing lowered, the other raised and gave a small flap, “Speaking your tongue requires a physical change to ours.” The demon brought a claw to its neck.

“Was that what the,” Callum spun his finger, mimicking the demon’s previous odd movements, “was?”

“Correct. I had to first gather ambient strings to read the language set into them.”

“And what are ‘ambient strings?’”

“The strings of reality.”

* * *

Every single string was black. Their haunches hit the floor. They couldn’t have used wings if they had them. It would’ve been biting mud.*

Their claws twitched. A deep ached filled them. They were out of practice. Maybe… just maybe… 

It would be like being back in The Under. Folding strings onto themselves. Honing the loops to sharp points, braiding the tails. Hook and twist into their own strings and _pull._

They reached.

Strings were thick under their claws. Their deep dark loops melded with the shimmering black of Cout's own claws. Links faded back into the _drithe**_ where Cout's influence ended.

They hooked.

They were loose. Impossibly loose. Tender, melting at the slightest touch.

They honed.

A simple squeeze. Black flattened to a spaded edge, like one of the projectiles they'd removed from their tail. Hard and sharp.

They twisted.

A flurry of movement. Like the winds of flight beneath their wings. Their heart skipped. Their breath hitched. Their crest dropped from their body. Something hollowed in their chest. Wonder and nostalgia and too much _emotion_ flooded their mind and body and soul.

They pulled.

_wrongwrongwrongpainfearpainfearconfusionwrongwrongfearpainfearfearfearwrongfearwrongfearconfusionhope-_

* * *

“Strings of… reality?”

The tips of its wings flicked up, “Information is set into them. Strings carry imprints of the stronger emotions that affected them. Often language is a part of this. You appear unsettled, so I used the most recent imprint. It may take me a few days to gain a proper vocabulary.”

“... I wouldn’t worry about that.”

The demon lowered itself to the ground, wing claws scoring the ground on either side. In the distance a cascading crash sounded as its mighty tail flicked centuries-old trees like twigs, “You say the other demon can not speak.”

“That is correct.”

It blinked. Like a massive blanket, the wings folded over the creature’s back. It closed its eyes. Something whooshed by Callum’s side. A long strip of fresh scored dirt marked the claw’s track. The wing settled once more.

Callum jumped. The creature’s eyes flew open. It recoiled, wings mantling. Something that size should not be able to fly. It did anyway.

* * *

“H-hello Ash.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Biting mud - a demon saying meaning to use much more force than needed, often to the detriment or downfall of whoever is using the force, often irrevocably messing up whatever they were trying to do; Overkill.
> 
> **Pronounced drih-thee


	22. Traces

Ash startled, jumping like a frightened cat. A voice. From where? They’d looked down for one moment and there was a voice.

A new voice.

It was muffled. Young, but not childish. Somewhere between late teens and mid-twenties. Neither high nor low. Soft and melodic, like a small stream. Shakey, as though the speaker ran a marathon and just caught their breath. Muffled, like…

Like speaking through a muzzle.

Ice flooded his veins, freezing him in place. Then, a scream.

Muted and cutting and wrenching and ripped from the demon’s throat by hooks of its own making. Fearful and panicked and terrified and bewildered.

Pain and fear and painandwrongandwrongandfearand confusionandfearandwrong andwrongandwrongpainandfearandfearandwrongandfearandhope and hope. Hope.

Overwhelming. Claws pressed against solid stone. Their tail was stiff.

What had happened here? The strings were old. They should’ve faded, covered by new situations and interactions. But they were strong. So strong.

And so so _bad._

Stained with blood and burns and- and- _and Ash._

 _His._ They were _his._ It was The Place but not. Worse, more alien with no place to escape. Cout collapsed, curling into a ball. Claws clutched at their crest. Their tail wound and lashed, pain of flesh on stone distant. Nothingness crept into their crest and arms and legs. Nothingness. Air too thin. They couldn’t breathe. Nothing. Gasping. Air whistling past the tips of retracted teeth. Nothing. Blank fuzzy fear and nothing and fear and nothing and fear. Nothing. Fear. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. 

Something touched them. Contact. The black fuzzy thing. Cout froze.

They twisted without thought. The little thing tucked close to their crest. They recoiled into the little thing’s warmth, its touch. They didn’t dare reach for the little thing’s strings. Not even with a water demon’s gentle swirling. Too high chance of grabbing ambient strings. Ash’s strings.

What happened to him? There was no mistaking the strain a Broken put on the strings. The fraying and shredding. He’d been Broken.

But he wasn’t any more. He couldn’t possibly be. He acted like one of the luckiest to witness an angel. Bewilderment and curiosity crept into Couts mind, nudging at fading panic and past fear. Old fear. New fear. His fear.

Not Cout’s fear. What happened to the not-human? Broken, then not? You can’t Un-Break. None of the Broken ever became whole again. It wasn’t possible.

They remembered the shaken. Those not broken, merely cracked. Some healed. But they had something to heal _from._ Some way to connect with others.

Perhaps it was different for whatever Ash was. Maybe The Middle was different. Maybe people could Un-Break here. Perhaps angels stained less here. Perhaps they…

Cout reeled.

There was no angel stain. None of the bright, sharp, burning residue thread left over.

Too much. Too many strikes from above*

No. No. That couldn’t be right. The strings were shredded, flayed to bits.

Their fingers curled, tail lashing. Did they dare try a second time? After the first sent them reeling? Could they bring themselves to look?

In their gut, they knew it wasn’t a question. They had to see. To check and be sure they were safe, to maybe, just maybe get a little insight to how someone might Un-Break.

Cout knew what to expect now. They glanced to the not-human pressed to the wall outside their room. Should they ask first, or… no. None of the Shaken or Broken reacted well when asked. Maybe it was different for Ash’s people. Maybe not.

They hunted for the missing part of the Break. They found it. It wasn’t where they expected.

Angel residue was there. They’d missed it the first time for one very strange reason. It wasn’t part of the ambient stings. Not part of the old stripped emotions. They didn’t dare grab it. It was new. Very new. Too new to have been related to Ash’s Un-Breaking.

So… “How?”

Ash’s eyes were wider than he thought possible. He pressed into the wall opposite the demon’s locked cell. He’d never been able to meld into it before, but there had never been a demon before, so…

The demon uncurled. One claw placed before the other. It rose, chest seeming to jerk the hindquarters to stand. Its long tail swept low in slow, soft lashes. It curled like a ribbon dancer’s trail.

Its eyes flashed with intelligence. It truly hit Ash that the creature was sapient in that moment. Yes, it had responded to human speech. Yes, it proved itself smart enough to follow directions. Smart enough to answer questions. But there was a world of difference between watching the demon answer and hearing it ask.

“How did you unbreak?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Demon saying meaning happening without warning, out of the blue


	23. Abrupt

The noise Ash made was best described as a screaming sigh. It clawed from his throat, thin and panicked and terrified and utterly lost. He was beyond words.

That noise had never been a good thing in Cout’s experience. They doubted it was going to start now.

“What is the problem?” They said. Cout prayed reflex hadn’t just made them do the wrong thing. None of the other people on The Middle responded well to their inquiries. Cout hoped to the King that language was the issue. The not-human pressed himself against the far wall in lieu of a response. “Please...” They trailed off. He was panicing, just like everyone else. Was it questions in general? No… that couldn’t be it. Callum asked the not-human questions before, and he hadn’t reacted to severely. What was wrong? What was distressing him?

They hadn’t said anything to upset him, had they? They hadn’t said… they had said. Ash wasn’t used to them speaking. It must’ve been a surprise. Once he got over that, it should be fine. He had to be fine.

But why was he cowering? Their speech wasn’t expected, but it also wasn’t dangerous. So why did Ash look like he was watching an angel?

The answer struck them like a physical blow. “The most dangerous.” That’s what they (supposedly) were. They stumbled back. Ash bolted.

No no nonononononono. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was supposed to be simple. Take care of the demon for a few days. Change its bandages. It wasn’t supposed to start  _ talking. _ Ash knew he wasn’t ready for  _ that. _

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. He’d just gotten better. Not good. But at least a little better. He could feel everything being dragged back. Back to panic and fear. Well, more panic and fear.

But it was. He should have known better than expect anything to go well. He should have known it wasn’t a good idea to stay alone with someone he’d only known for a little over a week.

He  _ had _ known. He hadn’t said anything. Maybe if he did… it was too late now. What should he do? What  _ could _ he do?

The strong scent of formaldehyde punched him in the nose. Ash realized he was cowering in the corner of the supply closet. He didn’t remember when he’d fled. Bottled rattled where he grabbed a shelf. Holy, pure, and salt water, came the distant memory.

Had it only been yesterday he’d done inventory? How long had he been in the closet? Seconds, hours?

Ash knew he couldn’t spend days in the closet, no matter how much he wanted to. A low gurgle sounded. He froze, then realized it was his stomach cementing the previous thought. 

No matter what he did, first he’d get a drink. Hunger couldn’t be helping his decision making skills. It was a few weeks old, but still good. Freezing kept it longer. Ash couldn’t remember how. The faint memory of Callum telling him surfaced but was promptly drowned by fuzz and panic. It was something about hair. He clawed for the memory, the lifeline to a subject which wouldn’t send him to the floor in anxious shaking.

Hair… hair… He focused on the jars. A brown mat covered them. Right. Mahaha hair kept things cold. Callum had traded… what had he traded? He traded it to… someone. Who? Ash racked his brain. He scratched until his memory bled but found nothing. It danced from his grasp whenever he thought he’d found it.

The looming fact of the talking demon pushed his failing barrier.

He turned to the bowl of blood. Exactly half a cup of the red liquid filled a shallow dish. The sides sloshed when he moved it, almost spilling. Almost. It was cold with bits still frozen. Usually he’d wait to thaw it fully. Usually he wasn’t freaking out and hungry. It hurt his teeth when drank like this, so Ash began lapping. His mind latched onto the repetitive motion.

Fingers dug into the side of the wooden dish. A few drops flew over the side when his shaking hands slammed to the table. He had to do this. He didn’t have a choice.

He took another lap and watched the ripples. He clutched a fistful of pant leg. The cloth bunched tight in his grip, rough and soft, grounding. What… what could he do?

Well, first he’d finish his meal. Nothing would be done before that. The consideration to go back for more, to delay just a little longer, flashed across his mind. It vanished quick as lightning. He couldn’t do that. It wouldn’t do anything but lose Callum’s trust and make him sicker than he already was. If there was one thing Ash knew he didn’t need, it was something else to turn his stomach.

The mere thought of going back to the demon had his gut churning. What should he do? He… he needed a plan. He was  _ going _ to collapse if he went in without one. He was probably going to collapse anyways.

He could try to hold a conversation?... no. Ash often had trouble holding an exchange with Callum, much less someone he barely knew, much less a demon.

He… he just wouldn’t talk to it. Yeah. That would work. Like before. He wouldn’t be allowed to talk. He wasn’t allowed to talk until Callum got back.

That old mindset would start flooding back once he tapped into even that single aspect of it. He’d have to be careful. Callum expected him to be useful.

* * *

Callum dreamed that night. It was far more likely on the road. He had fewer protections carved into the walls when there were no wall.

“YOo**u %$~sa!id iT h@ad-d NO W _ in _ g _ s _ , bUt *is-sss A DEm#on.”

The roaring and bells and background fuzz took a moment to parse. How his brain managed at all Callum chalked up to dreaming.

“That is correct. That’s what it said. That’s what the sigil said.”

“IT SPO()0()KE?<>”

Callum made a so-so gesture with his hand. If his brain could translate language of instruments and animals, the angel could figure out angel body language. If not, then tough. Callum didn’t exactly invite the thing into his head to begin with.

“Not in so many words.” The whirling dust flashed green, something his brain somehow managed to read as confusion. “It made a few sounds, and I guessed from there. It doesn’t seem to be able to talk.”

Half the eyes widened, the other half narrowed. The remaining half flashed grey and the last half glowed orange. The remaining quarter flashed out of existance. Callum hated dream physics.

“G()()O()od. It ----w-ill n())()()o)t be abl-e- - to sPreaD IT’$sS$# selFish#nesS-s a%^nd DiS#cord.”

A streak of magenta lashed through slowly swirling eyes. It cut most in half faster than the eye could follow.

“▀▁▓▆█┮┰┲┦┣┮┲⎍⍾⍼⍽⍟⍟⍟⍟⍡” Emotions were the only thing not alien. Horror and Rage were evident even past words and physical form.

Something thick and silver slashed in front of him, and Callum woke.


	24. Processing

Callum was getting sick of demons and angels. Things were compounding on each other and there seemed no way to untangle them.

Dreams were nebulous bitches at the best of times. He’d ignore that flaming pit of animate accordions* for the time being. Callum focused on the encounter with the self-proclaimed demon from yesterday. 

He hadn’t gotten the chance to verify it was what it said it was. Then again, none of the tests he’d tried had worked on Cout either, and Callum was fairly certain it was a demon. Summoning sigils don’t lie. It was possible the tests would’ve come back negative and the creature really was a demon. Or perhaps Cout was an exception.

Or it could’ve lied. Why lie to pretend you were a demon though? Of all things, why pretend to be one of the least trustworthy creatures to ever roam the earth?

Unless… unless it knew about Cout. The wingless demon was challenging those hypotheses. If someone caught wind of his new guest and wanted to add a new data point to his equation… Two strange demons were far harder to pass off as a fluke than one. If -and it was a big if- that was the case, then who? Only he and Ash knew of the experiments with the demon.

Callum racked his memory for any blanks, any signs of a mindwipe when he may have told someone and made to forget. All he found was intact memory of the great beast’s coils, of teeth longer than his body appearing small in its maw, of striking scars showing beneath its chin for a moment as it curled to jump, of too much flesh taking to the sky.

He wasn’t anywhere close to prepared to follow it. Not with how large it was or how high it flew.. All he could do was send a message to the next towns and hope. It hadn’t attacked him, so there was some hope,

It had spoken of the “Stings of Reality” and made some strange wing gestures. Assuming it was a demon, Callum’s earlier hypotheses regarding wings used as communication may have been true.

Then there was always the possibility he was dealing with some kind of trickster deity. A preta was a bit too straightforward for one of them. Callum would’ve heard of its mischief. None of the townsfolk had said a thing. Then again, it was possible they were distracted by the graverobbing.

And how did the angel play into all this? Two demons showing up in such a short time period was unlikely enough as it was, but adding an angel to the mix? If there was any doubt before, it was gone now.

Something Weird was going on. Callum didn’t know what, and that was concerning.

The hunter shook his head. It would’ve been so nice to write these thoughts down. Alas, he would be riding another few hours before his next break. He wanted to get back to snail town before nightfall.

* * *

Back and forth. Back and forth. They paced every wall of their cell.

What were they supposed to do? Cout could  _ feel _ hope slipping, a stream trickling through their claws. There was nothing they could do about it. It wasn’t their  _ fault. _ They’d done all they could. They’d been friendly. They’d given Ash his space when needed. He’d done everything they’d asked. In the name of the King’s Unknown Visage, what did they want?!

They glared at the walls. At the places their drawings once sat, where they first attempted complex communication. It hadn’t been so long ago, had it? How little changed in that time, and how much. What would it take to have a v’cacking verbal exchange?

They slashed at the walls. Blank slate where their hope once rested. Their claws tore shallow cuts into stone and plate from their own flesh. It did nothing. Their body ached where they slammed into the wall.

Their claws ached from where they’d struck the walls. Eventually the frustration grew too great to contain. What were they supposed to do?

Their tail wrapped around their paws in an aching tendril. Nothing they did helped. Not greetings, not questions, not suggestions or comments. Not silence. Ash flinched every time they made noise. Their quiet only brought his acute fear down to a tense wariness.

Despair slowly crawled up their legs. Their breath hitched. A sob racked them.

Could it have been different? If they’d reached earlier. If they’d tried  _ everything _ earlier? Had they only themselves to blame? They set a stinging claw on the wall and their head flat against the stone. Cool rock soaked away their excess heat. They set a stinging, bloodied claw against the wall, their head resting beside it.

Ash swallowed. It was a close call. If the demon hadn’t stopped then he’d have needed to step in and that was something he  _ did not want. _ The Y-stick shook in his grip. The tranquilizer almost rattled from his fingers. He almost the needle it in his haste to get the thing away before he dropped it.. The Y-stick shook in his grip. That was close, too close. If the demon hadn’t stopped then he would have needed to go in. Even if Ash were speaking, he’d have trouble finding the words for how much he did  _ not _ want that.

He set the tranquilizer syringe on the table, almost fumbling in his haste. Ash swallowed. A shudder raced up his spine, cold seeping into his ribs. A long-healed break made itself known.

The demon ate once per day. His fingers were right next to its teeth. The first time was definitely the worst. Ash quite literally collapsed in fear when he was finished.

Reattaching the muzzle was slightly less nerve-wracking, as he did so when the demon was asleep.

He slid the demon’s food through a slot in the door. Its head jerked to face him like a demented bird. Its steps were shaky, its claws left small spots of blood.

It turned to allow the vampire access to the straps. When the cap fell away it gave a shuddering sigh. He immediately backed up. The demon stared at nothing for a few seconds. It turned to Ash. 

Cout opened their mouth. They had no words on their tongue, so they turned to the offering.

“Lor’qua Jinn.”** They said in a hoarse whisper.

Cout ate. It was an offering, yes, but it held none of the purpose of one. None of the connection, none of the conversation, love, acknowledgement, dependence. Nothing. It was just something to keep their body from feeding on itself.

They swallowed. Did they even want that? To stay alive with no connection? No friends, no freedom. Nothing to explore. No one to help. Nothing to do. Nothing to say.

No. That wasn’t right. One thing to say. One last try.

“Do you need help?”

Ash flinched. Cout stomach dropped. They collapsed to their haunches. Black eyes stared wide. The last scraps of hope were slipping. They had to do  _ something, anything. _

“Am I doing something wrong? Please, just  _ talk to me! Please!” _ Desperation scraped their voice ragged.

Ash could hear it. The increasingly frenzied, pleading tone. The pacing, the way it threw itself at the walls . He didn’t want this. He never wanted this. Not without guidance. Not without Callum.

“ _ Please.  _ I don’t… I don’t want this! I can’t -this. I can’t!” Blood roared in his ears, his hands clamped tightly on either side of his head.

But the world never cared about what Ash wanted. Why would it start now?

The demon recoiled.

A light flicked on in the lab.

“What the actual fuck am I witnessing?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *... I have no explanation for this metaphor
> 
> **Lor’qua Jinn - Thank you/acknowledgement of reciprocal feeding


	25. Communication

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“Oh-thank-The-King,” Words came out in one cluttered breath, “Someone to  _ talk _ to!”

Of all the responses the demon could’ve given, that wasn’t expected. If all it wanted to do was talk then why lie earlier? Why say you couldn’t? Perhaps it was trying to convince Ash of something and waiting for Callum to be gone for a long period of time. But there would’ve been no way for the demon to know how long he’d be gone, or even when he’d leave. And why wouldn’t it have tried speaking before?

Ash hadn’t mentioned the demon speaking when returned to its cell at night. He definitely would have. And if it was after Ash at all wasn’t a certainty. Had it been after the vampire since the beginning, since its summoning, since its frankly all-too-easy capture? No, Callum dismissed that hypothesis. It wouldn’t make any sense. The demon had no way of knowing Callum would spare it.

The only outward indication of his confusion was a furrowed brow. It was the only reason the thin thread of trust the demon built hadn’t snapped yet was the confusing nature of its reaction. Only one response in and he was thrown for a small loop.

He’d set the discussion aside until morning so he could recover and  _ avoid _ this exact problem.

There was something he was missing. It was at that point the hunter realized the demon was still chattering. Speaking of missing… Callum finished scrawling his thoughts.

“Stop.”

The demon’s jaws snapped shut with an audible clap. Oh please oh please oh  _ please _ don’t let the human- what was his name again?... regardless,  _ please  _ don’t let him leave the like Ash.

“You have lied. You’ve left Ash in quite the state. Before we continue, I have one question: why should I believe anything you have to say?”

Cout twisted their head to the side, head and crest and chest alike facing the hunter. Shoulders jutted back and in to form a strange approximation of more “generic” demon horns, if such a thing could be considered “generic.”

“I… I didn’t mean to upset Ash. I really didn’t. All I did was talk. I don’t know what I did or what I said, but please let me know if I can somehow fix it.”

Ash hadn’t come to him with any injuries, so Callum aired on the side of believing the demon. He’d need to corroborate the demon’s story with Ash before he went forward on that front. In the meantime, “And the lying?”

“When did I lie?”

“You indicated you couldn’t talk, yet we’re holding a conversation.”

“I didn’t lie.” Its deep black eyes met the hunters stern blue. Finding the emotion on the face of a creature with a mouth going down to their collarbone was no simple feat. Callum had some practice in the past weeks, but most of it had come down to body language. Now though, he had something else.

“Forgive me if I don’t believe you.” He said. The creature was firm in its statement, but demons had a reputation for lying. A reputation under severe scrutiny, but a reputation nonetheless.

“Uhh… you’re forgiven?” Tone of voice was something Callum didn’t think he’d be able to identify in the demon for quite a while. The intricacies of a rumble or the undertones of a purr would take far more experience to decode than tone used in common speech. Assuming the demon emoted like a human -something Callum observed quite a bit of despite the prior language barrier- the demon was one part lost, two parts guileless.

Still, he couldn’t be too cautious, “Are you being purposefully obtuse, or do you not understand what the phrase means?”

“The second one. And what does ‘obtuse’ mean?”

“I’ll… explain later. Now,” the hunter leaned closer to the cage, “how were you not lying?”

Cout unthinkingly drew a claw to the corner of their mouth, “I  _ couldn’t _ speak. I found a way. Really should’ve tried before.” The last bit was muttered to the point where Callum could barely make it out.

“And you didn’t try before, why?”

The demon’s shoulders drew higher, its tail lashing. “I didn’t think I’d be able to.”

“Able to what? Why didn’t you think you’d be able?”

“I had to reach out and do this-” Cout plucked a thick black string from the ambient tangle. It shone on the visible spectrum, wriggling like an eel in a fisherman’s grasp. Callum all but dropped his clipboard in his haste for the knife at his belt.

“Put it down.”

Cout froze at his first syllable, black eyes flashing wide. They jumped back like a startled cat before he finished his sentence. The stone was cold where their side pressed against it, muted where the bandages covered; their blood coursed hot.

All that could be heard was heavy breathing and Ash’s faint footsteps.

“What,” Callum took a careful breath, washing the shaking from his voice, “was that?”

The demon blinked, then blinked again. The second time was horizontal, a thin film sliding over its eye in a rainbow shimmer. It wasn’t unlike the shine of dark oil, “The Strings.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This thing was an absolute bastard to write. It must've gone through at least three rewrites before we landed here.


End file.
